


Father and Son Oneshots Baby!

by flyin_writer



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Arguing, Ass-Kicking, Bullying, Crying, Dadza, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, November 16th, Overworking, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil is a proud dad, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Sleep Deprivation, Stimming, Violence, Warden Hybrid Wilbur, Wilbur Soot-centric, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Wilbur Soot, he has small ass wings tho, phil is ooc because hes a good dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyin_writer/pseuds/flyin_writer
Summary: Request Page is on the first chapter, rules and shit is alllll there. Hope you enjoy :)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, just father and son bonding, not fucking romantic you bafoons, you heathens - Relationship
Comments: 103
Kudos: 248





	1. Request Rules

Hey! Welcome to the request page. This is gonna explain shit

**_Basic Rules_ **

_Must be Wilbur-centric but I don't mind having other characters join_

_Don't ask for anything shippy. Ever._

_I will ALWAYS put Trigger Warnings for ya!_

**_What I Will Write_ **

_Basically anything that isn't in What I Won't Write_

_Like literally anything i dont care_

_Hurt/Comfort? bet your ass_

_Angst?? Oh fuck yes_

_Straight up father and son bonding? bro i have daddy issues ofc i wanna project_

_Dude you want Kristen being a mum? FUCK YEAH_

**_What I Won't Write_ **

_Romantic shit, i mean hey it is a father and son relationship_ _book_

_Smut you fucking heathens_

I'm not good with writing the minors, but I will try 

Anyways comment here if you want smn written :)

F requests closed


	2. Don't over work yourself, take a break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small request but Wilbur overworking himself 2 the point of tears so phil has to intervene and comfort him? 
> 
> Request from sootrank (wilburcore) 
> 
> No trigger warnings apart from small amounts of swearing :)

He had been here for hours, working away at his computer. It had been so long since his eyes were removed from the screen, Wilbur had no idea what time it was. The list of things to do just got longer and longer each day. Write songs, stream, record, edit and repeat.

And it has stayed like that for ages. But, only recently it took a toll on him. A pretty heavy toll, it reminded of a storm cloud that constantly stayed over his head. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t go away.

What was Wilbur’s solution? Do more. Make more. Just to keep himself busy, to keep his mind away from the storm and something more productive. Even if it was slowly damaging him. Even if it was slowly killing him.

The only breaks, Phil noticed, was to go to the bathroom. Not even eat. God, when was the last time he had seen Wilbur eat? 

It was around one in the morning when Wilbur decided to rest his head on his desk in defeat. He couldn’t fucking think. All his video ideas vanished. All his song ideas disappeared from his head. 

Wilbur swept his hands through his soft and curly hair, trying to give his brain any form of stimulation, just anything to help him think. He needed to get this work done but his stupid fucking brain wouldn’t let him. 

His eyes stung, whether it was from the long hours he spent at his computer, or if he was about to cry from the overwhelming amount of stress, possibly even both at this point. He moved his head again, this time making his eyes look up at the ceiling. 

It’ll be fine, he thought to himself, all he needed to do was sit and think. 

However, that didn’t go the way he planned either. The thoughts that came to his head was the exact opposite of what he wanted. They turned out to be sinister in nature, clogging his head with words of panic and discouragement. 

A salty flavour passed by his mouth, and trailed down his cracked lips.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck . Wilbur was crying. He was fucking crying. Of course he was. He felt absolutely pathetic. Crying over the fact that he couldn’t think of something at one in the fucking morning.   
This had to be one of the most dumb, shittiest reasons to cry. Wilbur banged his fists on the table, like he had done many times before, and let more tears out with each whack.

Why can’t he fucking think? Why can’t he do his own god damn job? 

Phil was sitting downstairs, watching something random on the television as he listened to his adopted son upstairs. The father had been growing feelings of concern for the boy for a while now. 

Wilbur had been working himself to the bone and all Phil really did was watch. And, even when he did ask his son if he was okay, Wilbur would only nod and get back to his work.

His fucking work, that’s it! That must be the culprit who had been hurting his son. 

That was when he heard the loud, stampede of bangs from upstairs. The sound was made a few times until it suddenly stopped. There was only one person Phil knew of who was able to do that, especially in that amount of time. 

He rushed out of his chair, running all the way upstairs, stopping at Wilbur’s door. Phil slowly knocked at the door before coming in, closing the door behind him. His head turned to face Wilbur, who’s head stayed up, eyes glaring daggers into the ceiling that lay above the two.

“Wilbur?” Phil asked, trying to get Wilbur’s attention. However, the musician stayed in his position, only giving a hum, “You okay?”. 

That got Wilbur focusing on Phil, letting his head move to face the older, “I don’t know anymore, Phil. I really don’t know.” he said, letting a few more tears fall loose from his eyes. 

Phil walked over to Wilbur, and stood in front of him, between Wilbur and the computer desk, “Well, do you wanna tell me what’s gone on or do I have to guess?” Phil questioned Wilbur, trying his best to help.

Wilbur stayed silent for a moment before giving Phil a response, “Can’t get this fucking work done! I’ve been sitting here and I haven’t even thought of a single idea Phil! Not one!”

Phil hesitated when he spoke this time, not wanting Wilbur to get any more stressed than he clearly already was, “Wilbur, mate, have you not been sitting here for days? Of course you can’t think at the moment. You’ve pretty much worked yourself to death, if I’m being honest here.”  
Suddenly, Wilbur’s breathing started to get heavier and faster, trying his best to give out a response. However, Phil didn’t let him. Instead, he grabbed Wilbur’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

“Calm down, I’m here. Let’s take some deep breaths, alright Wil? Think you can count with me?” 

Wilbur had never nodded so fast in his life.

“Okay, repeat after me. 1...2 …,there we go, …3...4...5, you’re doing amazing Wilbur. Think you wanna continue?”

The younger slowly shook his head, his breathing calming down, in a steady pattern of in and out. Phil stared at him, smiling, “Nice job there. Now, listen to me here, I say we take a break from the computer and work. It might help get those brain juices flowing, and give you a moment or two to help relax.”

Wilbur stared at him, his face still red and covered in dry tear streaks and small amounts of snot dripping from his nose, “M’not sure dad. What happens to my work? What if it all goes away?”

Phil gave a small chuckle at his son’s panicking, “It won’t disappear Wilbur. People would still love you. In fact, if you really think about it, people would probably love you even more when you come back.”

He continued to look up at Phil, thinking about what he should do. A minute or two passed before Wilbur stood up and fell into his dad’s arms. Wilbur wrapped his arms around Phil, finding comfort in the hug the two shared. Phil felt his t-shirt dampen, but if it was making Wilbur feel better, he didn’t really give a fuck. 


	3. Dad’s Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by a friend of mine on twitter  
> What if Wilbur and Phil get into an argument and Wilbur just breaks down?  
> Fic based on the song Loved by Fein, here's the link :) https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ADkxKe2iDhM&feature=share

  
Okay, Wilbur did try his hardest. He really fucking did. And his dad can’t sit here and blame him, when he was the man who told him to do what made him happy. He thought that he could make it as a musician, okay? Wilbur has been told for as long as he could remember, that one day he was going to make it far. 

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have taken that to heart. Because here he was, just graduated college with an empty bank account and acoustic guitar. He still remembers the day he got that guitar. It was something you would only see in movies. His bright shining eyes looking into the music emporium across the street, spotting the guitar. Asking for it, being told no. Then waking up to see one very similar by his bed on his 10th birthday. It even had little orcas on it, leading young Wilbur to believe the guitar had been made by his father. And it was. 

He was hooked, learning every song he knew in an extremely short amount of time. His father was proud too, which is probably the cause for a lot of things he did. Wilbur always wanted praise from his peers, it let him know to continue. 

Then, he started to write a few songs of his own. Majority of them about being in love, but that was from the amount of teenage angst the curly haired musician had growing up. Besides, Phil still loved them. 

Sometimes, he would catch Phil humming the lyrics or the chords, that always made Wilbur happy. It would always let him know to continue.

One day, he decided that he wanted to take his music further, into the next level. He started to take college classes about writing, media, music, everything he needed that would help him achieve the career of his dreams. After all, Phil had always told him and his twin brother to ‘do what makes them happy in life’. At least that shitty piece of advice worked for Techno. 

Wilbur took it to heart too, but clearly playing guitar doesn’t work out as well compared to adventuring. Sure, guitar still made him happy, he still had the same bright eyes the kid who stared into the music emporium did. Only difference is that one was much wiser and smarter. And that one still had a roof over his head.

He should have known this wouldn’t have worked out, he should have done more research. If he did, maybe he wouldn’t be stuck in this shitty position, still living with his father while his brother ventured off into the real world. It made him feel so fucking pathetic; he’s a grown ass man but here he is, still sleeping in his childhood bedroom. 

Didn’t help when Phil kept on picking on him for it too. Honestly, Wilbur doubts they have a malicious intention, but it still hurt his heart to hear the words he would say about Wilbur. 

Phil didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t. He has raised Wilbur, why would he be picking on him? It would be like if a baker were to make the best bread in the world, then stuffing it into the trash. That’s why he didn’t expect Wilbur to burst out in tears one day, when Phil asked him if he was going anywhere today. 

And when Phil had asked what’s wrong, Wilbur just shouted at him.

“What do you fucking think? I’m a 24 year old man who still lives with his dad, while his own twin brother, emphasis on the twin part dad, got to explore the world. He’s so much fucking better than me and you make it very obvious! ‘Oh good job Techno!’ ‘I’m so proud of you Techno’. That’s what you sound like. While I’m over here, getting a good job over having a bath! Am I that pathetic to you? I don’t even know anymore.”

Phil was in absolute shock, why would Wilbur think this? Okay, well thinking about it, Phil always did give Techno more attention than Wilbur growing up, but that was for a multitude of reasons.

Techno was powerful and so was Wilbur. It was just that Techno was more of a fighter, while Wilbur was the type of kid to stay inside, read a book, do whatever. And yes, both boys did have strong passions with what they did, it is Techno has the true potential to be dangerous, so to speak. Especially compared to Wilbur, whose main focus in life had been writing and playing his guitar. To put it simply, Wilbur wasn’t that much of a warrior

Fuck, tread careful here Phil, he told himself. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he repeated, “Don’t go thinking that I don’t love you. Cause I do, you should know that by now, Wilbur. I mean, hey, I am your old man, wouldn't go bashing you like that. It just hurts me to see you not living up to your true potential y’know. You could make it big one day, compared to your current situation. Do you understand?” Lord does he hope Wilbur won’t take that out of context.

Wilbur just stared at him, with those big doe eyes of his. He doesn’t even speak for a few moments. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, before finally deciding on what to say.

“Wait. You...you don’t actually hate me? You’re just disappointed? Oh boy that helps! To know my dad is disappointed in me! We can pack it up now, stop crying!” Wilbur said, his tone becoming more sharp towards the end.

“Wilbur, knowing you could do better doesn’t mean I am disappointed in you. There’s a big difference with those two. One word means you haven’t filled my expectations. Let me tell you something, you absolutely have Wil. Sure, it isn’t working out right now, but life has its ups and downs. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t accomplished lots. I don’t think Techno can play the guitar, or write the songs you do.” Phil said, a loving smile making its way on his face.

Once again, Wilbur stared at him. This time though, he didn’t hesitate as much with what he said. “Are you being genuine here? Like, do you actually mean what you just said? Or are you just fucking with me?” His voice was tinged with disbelief. 

Phil smiled more, nodding his head and agreeing, “Not fucking with you there mate. Life has hiccups. Just be lucky that I’m here to help you. No matter what.”

Wilbur jumped from his spot on the sofa and collided with his father, his arms clutching around Phil’s torso; he mumbled something into the black piece of clothing. Luckily, Phil was just barely able to hear it.

“Thanks dad.”

Phil laughed as his arms wrapped around Wilbur, “I’m always here to help. Just don’t get so angsty about it. God, you may be 24 but you still act like you're 14.” Wilbur let out a laugh at that.

Maybe he was going to make it far one day. He was just going to have to wait. At least someone is here with him to do that.


	4. TV Remotes and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phil comforting wil after a nightmare  
> Requested by is he onto his third fookin banana 
> 
> PSA: If you get the reference i love you my twitter is turtle_innit please can we be friends

Wilbur quickly sat up, his head banging and small droplets of sweat falling down his face. He looked around, still in a dazed and sleepy state, and sighed.

God, he fucking hated nightmares. Wilbur had been having them a lot recently and he honestly didn’t know why. This one though, had to be one of his scariest yet.

The dream consisted of him and two other entities, Phil and this monster looking thing. He didn’t know where it had come from, and quite frankly, Wilbur didn’t exactly care. 

All he remembers is being chased by this long snake looking creature with his father figure running alongside him, trying to escape it. Then, when Wilbur had turned his head, he could see Phil’s feet dangling from the creature’s gargantuan jaws. It was like Phil died off camera.

Now, in real life, he knew Phil would be able to survive. His father used to be a pretty good adventurer, this information being told to him as a kid and to this day. 

And, Wilbur thought, knowing this was true and the dream wasn’t real, he should have been able to go back to sleep pretty easily. But, here he was, laying down with his eyes wide open and staring at the blank canvas of a ceiling on top of him. 

Wilbur knows that this is stupid and childish, yet he still wanted to go across that hall to where his father was and talk to him, get some comfort after a wreck of a night. 

How would Phil even feel about this? His own grownup son was scared because of a nightmare, just like when he was younger. Sure, Wilbur used to have sleeping problems, but that when he was just a kid. Now, he is an adult, who has to suck it up and look at the world and it’s cold and dead heart. He wasn’t always going to have a shoulder to lean on.

Then, why can’t he use it when he needs it? Well, he can. He just doesn’t want to. No one likes feeling stupid and childish, asking for their daddy to come and save them. Well, apart from all the rich kids who have daddy’s money. That’s beside the point though, because he wasn’t a fucking rich kid.  
But, he also wasn’t stupid. Wilbur knows that Phil would always be there to help him. Fuck. He really has no clue about what he should do: go speak to his father, ask for some comfort, or lay in his bed until god-knows in the morning.

Clearly, his feet decided for him though. Wilbur unravelled himself from the confines of his duvet, got up and walked out his room. He stayed on his tiptoes though, not wanting to wake anyone else up. Well, apart from Phil, but he was going to cross that bridge when it arrived.

His hand hesitated for a moment before knocking a few times, trying his best to be as quiet as possible. A moment or two passed before Wilbur could hear a very mumbled and slurred Phil answer.

“Hey? You alright?” He said, sleep evident in his voice. 

“Erm….not really. Can I come in?” Wilbur asked and lord he really did feel like a kid again. There was a few seconds of rustling, before Phil gave a response. 

“Wilbur? ‘Course, come in. Turn on the light while you’re at it too please.” Wilbur nodded, thankful that his dad let him in. He did as Phil said, turning on the light and closing the door behind him. Phil sat up, his hair messy from sleep., and looked at Wilbur. 

“What’s up? There’s gotta be a reason why you’re up at...3 am in the morning. Jesus, you have got to get a better sleep schedule mate.” Phil spoke, chuckling at the end.

“About that. I may or may not have had a really, really shitty dream and now I can’t focus.” Wilbur muttered, his hand rubbing his neck. Again, Phil chuckled at Wilbur’s response.

“Well, what was it about then?” Phil questioned him, wanting to know the route cause to all this.

“Okay, promise not to judge me. There was this weird-looking snake thing. It looked like it was around 100 feet at least. It had all these scales and shit. And it’s just me and you at this point, running. I honestly have no clue where everyone else is. When I turn, I just see your feet dangling out of the things mouth.” Wilbur replied, his face burning with embarrassment.

Phil looked at Wilbur for a moment, his face plastered in general confusion. “Okay then. Well, I’m sure people have had weirder dreams than that, Wil. And, because of this giant snake-looking thing-”

“Weird-looking, it was clearly a snake, it just looked weird.” Wilbur interrupted.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Phil laughed, “As I was saying, because of this ‘weird-looking snake thing’ eating me, you can’t sleep?”. Now Wilbur just felt shitty, and the look of feeling shitty was quite clear on his face.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.It was dumb I know, I’ll let you get back to bed.” The younger apologised, starting to get up from his spot on Phil’s bed. That was until Phil grabbed his arm and looked at Wilbur.

“Hold on, it’s clearly not dumb if you’ve come to me about it. Don’t feel bad about asking for help Wilbur.” Phil smiled at him, pulling Wilbur back down onto the bed, “Now, pass me that remote, will you? Not sitting here listening to you talking about fucking anteaters again.”

“Phil! Their tales are bigger than their own fucking bodies! They eat ants! They are devil-incarnate.” Wilbur defended his previous arguments. 

“This is why I asked for the remote, you dickhead.” Phil responded, not wanting to deal with anymore bullshit at this time in the morning.

“Depends on what we are watching though,” Wilbur said, “cause there's no way in hell I am watching any more fucking anime. Rule 3, dad, no weebs- under penalty of death. That also goes for you too.” 

Phil looked at the television, a smirk replacing the smile on his face, “I got over shows y’know. Look here!”

Wilbur turned to stare at the television, realising what Phil was about to click on, “Phil I am not watching a fucking documentary on anteaters-”

“Oops, too late.”


	5. It was only a colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wilbur has to end another stream early bc of chat and phil defends/comforts him? i just felt so bad for wilbur after the among us stream and want to see him have some comfort  
> Requested by Angel_Demon_Princess

In all honesty, Wilbur did not expect for the chat to react the way they did. He only used a colour in an online game for his character. People did it all the time. They were all saying to give him back the colour. It was only a colour, why were they mad? Tubbo didn’t even seem pressed about it.

Even then, it was all in good nature, fucking about with your mates. He only did it once and a second later, people online were practically screaming at him for taking ‘Tubbo’s colour’. First off, no one can claim colours. And secondly, Tubbo knew he was joking, the entire call knew he was joking.

When they got too much, he waited for the round to be over as soon as possible. Then, he made up some bullshit excuse about having to leave cause it was late. He doesn't know how people fell for it, but they did.

Well, everyone apart from Phil. That man could always tell when people were upset. It was like a super power that Phil somehow had acquired from being a father figure. You always know when someone you love needs help, that’s what Phil says. Wilbur doesn’t really understand. 

So, when Wilbur left the call after an absolute shithole of a round, Phil almost instantly something was wrong. To begin with, it was only 8pm. While Wilbur’s neighbouring office would tell him to be quiet around that time, the musician wouldn’t listen. Hell, sometimes he would get even louder just to piss them off. Because of this, he knew it wouldn’t be the time. 

On top of that, Wilbur hadn’t mentioned anything leading towards what he had planned for after the stream. Using this, Phil guessed that Wilbur was free. And when Wilbur was able to, he would spend multiple hours streaming, not one singular hour like he had done tonight. 

Therefore, in Phil’s mind, there could only be a few logical explanations as to why Wilbur left the way he did. The most likely being Wilbur had been stressed out by chat. Phil knew that Wilbur had always been the type of person to stress out over the small things in life.

Not wanting his chat to be more confused than they already were, he played a few more rounds before calling it a night. He texted Wilbur a couple times during these, just to check up on him a little before he would call him.

After saying bye to his mates and stream, he checked discord to see if Wilbur was online. Phil clicked on Wilbur’s profile before seeing a little pixelated green circle by his icon.

“Thank fuck for that.” Phil said to himself. He sent Wilbur a private message, asking him if he wanted to call and play something random. Luckily, Wilbur agreed, saying the two should play some minecraft. It was their literal jobs after all. 

Within mere moments, Wilbur and him were on a call, joining a random survival world. Phil let Wilbur have some fun before he asked what happened. Wilbur probably needed a couple of moments to calm down.

He thought for a moment about how he should phrase this, before finally speaking, “Quick question, Wil.”

Wilbur hummed, letting Phil know he could ask whatever he was going to, “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Why did you leave the stream way earlier than usual today? You never leave that early.” Phil questioned Wilbur.

“Got bored. Nothing was happening.” Wilbur lied, hoping Phil wouldn’t see behind the sentence.

“You sure? I mean, when you left, we had just finished a fucking bonkers round. Shit hit the fan in the last one with you.” Phil questioned him more, wanting Wilbur to say the truth himself and not by being forced to.

“Yeah. I’m certain of it Phil.” Wilbur silently begged for Phil to not ask that again, he doesn’t really want anyone to make a bigger deal out of this. It had only been chat being assholes, nothing large. 

But, if it wasn’t large, then why did Wilbur leave? He could handle chat being assholes usually, why not today? Fuck, he’s thinking too long, he’s got to fill in the newly arisen awkward silence that lay between the two.

“Now, can we build this house? I wanna add some barrels, it makes the house look more textured.” Wilbur pressed.

Phil quietly sighed, low enough that Wilbur didn’t hear him, and agreed, “Of course, let me go get the wood slabs from the chest.”

Lord. This was going to be harder than he expected. Wilbur didn’t usually lie to him about things like this, so what had the chat said that was that bad it made Wilbur end the stream prematurely? 

During their gameplay, Phil kept on hinting that Wilbur could always come to him- to get the idea in his head that he could tell Phil. After hours, Wilbur finally said something. 

“Can I tell you what actually happened earlier?” Wilbur asked him.

“What do you mean? A lot of things have happened, Wil.” Phil said, trying to coax Wilbur more. 

“Why I left the stream so early, thought you deserved to know at least.” Wilbur replied, giving a small chuckle at the end. 

Phil reciprocated that chuckle as he spoke, “Oh, yeah. What happened then?”

“So, see when I used yellow? The chat got fucking pissed. Like, really pissed. They said it was ‘Tubbo’s colour’ or some shit.” 

Phil hummed while Wilbur was talking, letting him know that he was listening, “Really? Chat got that mad over a colour?”

“Yeah, and you know when you just can’t handle things? I pretty much left, making up some bullshit excuse to make sure no one else would question.” Wilbur replied, nodding at the start.

“Let me tell you something, chat can be pretty dumb at times. Were any of us mad about it? Were we?” Phil asked, knowing the answer.

“Well, no...maybe? I don’t know.” Wilbur stammered, panicking. 

“We didn’t Wilbur. It was only the chat being angry. But, listen to me when I say this, if you wouldn’t take advice from them, don’t take their criticism.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re saying a grown up version of ‘if they told you to, would you?’.” Wilbur laughed, trying to take some edge off the conversation. 

And Phil laughed back, “If you want to see it as that, then go ahead. Just know you can tell me next time.”


	6. You're different kid, but so are we

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nmm just protective dadza over wilbur,, maybe has a hard time at school or something/Can you do one where will gets bullied because he is a theater kid and then Phil comforts him after he comes back from home crying and all beaten up?  
> Requested by Loyd_146 and moonymark

Wilbur had always been one for the theocratic arts, ever since a young age he would act out scenes from his favourite books or movies with his twin brother. Phil always found it amusing, at least until Wilbur got older.

To put it simply, kids can be the world’s worst assholes when they wanted to be. If they didn’t like someone, they would let that other kid know. Usually by some form of violence. 

And Phil can confidently say Wilbur and Techno were different to other kids in many ways; they were adopted, had no mother, one was obsessed with potatoes, fighting and pigs while the other was in love with music, drama and things of that nature. So, add two different kids to a school where anything but the norm is completely otherworldly, something was bound to happen. 

Luckily, Techno could always defend him and Wilbur. One time, Phil had gotten a call saying how Techno had fucking broke a kids leg for picking on Wilbur. Phil never punished them, it was sticking up for what was right, but it was weird to say the least.

Compared to his brother, Wilbur wasn’t what Phil would call a ‘physical kid’, Wilbur would always fight his battles with his words instead of his arms or legs. Once again, many kids didn’t like this. They only knew a cycle of saying something, and getting in a fight with the kid they said it about. This would always work in Techno’s favour, as he would always end up winning. 

Did it work in Wilbur’s favour? Fuck no, Wilbur wished it did. It would only work if Techno was there, and that just means Techno beating the shit out of them. 

Wilbur getting picked on wasn’t new. Techno scared away the other kids, but the moment he wasn’t there, Wilbur would get relentlessly teased. Sometimes hurt, but the other kids knew not to make a mark that was easily seen by other people. 

And lord does Wilbur regret not telling someone who would have actually done something, unlike that fucking teacher.   
Every anti-bullying assembly always had the same routine of going through the types of bullying, showing examples of each, and then telling kids to always tell a trusted adult.

Oh boy was that bullshit. He thought he could tell a teacher and that didn’t work out the way he had planned. All the teacher did was wave him off, saying how he just needs to get along with the other kids. That didn’t even help, cause that ended up with him being pushed against a wall in a hallway and being forced to promise to not snitch again. The bastards got him when Techno was in lunch detention. 

This kept on happening all throughout the twins' school life. It did die down in secondary, but it still happened to Wilbur. Other kids learnt to be scared of Techno, but they didn’t learn to even look at Wilbur in a nice way. Each glance held judgement.

Sure, it had probably been because he was still a big fucking theatre nerd, but he wasn’t going to change that just to be ‘popular’. Techno didn’t change, and he wasn’t going to.

Phil wasn’t surprised when he got the call saying that Techno had gotten suspended for a week for putting a kid in an arm brace. The kid was a prick, in Techno’s words, and his son stood up to that. But, when the two got home, he was taken back by seeing Wilbur with a bruised black eye.

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Techno stopped him, “Told you the kid was a prick. Caught the fucker pinning Wilbur against a bathroom stall.”

The father looked to Wilbur, as if to ask if what Techno said was true. Wilbur nodded.

“And your solution was to not talk to the kid, but instead sprain his arm?” Phil asked, “Don’t worry I’m not mad, just wanna ask the kids name.”

Wilbur quietly mumbled something, and Phil told him to speak up. He said the name more loudly this time. 

“Techno, go put some ice on Wilbur’s eye. I’m getting the phone.”

The twins walked over to the kitchen, both of them laughing at their father’s response. As Techno held the ice bag to Wilbur’s eye, they could hear Phil shouting down the phone. 

“Are you kidding me? You- don’t tell me to calm down- you saw the situation and only punished Techno?” 

A moment passed before Phil got louder, “No. Tell me why one of my sons has a black eye and the rude fu-kid, I mean kid, who did this gets away scot-free while his brother who stood up for him gets punished!”

Techno looked in the direction of the living room, his jaw wide as he laughed again, “Well, least we know that kid’s gonna get fucked.”

  
Wilbur burst out laughing too, nodding and letting Techno hold the ice still, “For sure.”

“You get that kid punished or I swear to god I will storm up there and show you Wilbur’s black eye.” A pause came after that before Phil exclaimed, “Thank you. Please call me back if anything else happens.”

Phil walked into the kitchen, shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

“What happened? Is the kid gonna get fucked?” Techno changed his direction from Wilbur to Phil.

“I’ll make sure of it. Don’t worry. You alright, Wil?” Phil reassured him, patting Wilbur’s shoulder. 

“Should be.” Wilbur told him. 

“We always got your back, don’t forget that.” Phil leant on the counter, smiling at his two sons. 

“I’ll just beat the shit out of them. That’s always an option.” Techno suggested, finally letting Wilbur hold his own ice bag for his eye.

“You have got to stop resorting to violence.” Wilbur sighed.

“Yeah. Violence isn’t always the answer.” Phil agreed with Wilbur, nodding.

Techno just stared between the two of them before saying, “You may be right about that. Violence is the answer and the question is yes.”

Phil fucking cackled, wheezing at Techno’s response. However, Wilbur’s eyes were wide as he stared at Techno, confused at his answer. All Techno did was shrug and grinned, “Not wrong, am I? I don’t think I’m wrong; I’m never wrong.”


	7. Maybe I could wake up and feel alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oo how about an angsty one where Phil walks in on Wilbur singing either Jubilee line or Saline solution? :) / How about Philza discovers Wilbur’s “Your City Gave Me Asthma” album (I was thinking specifically of the song “Jubilee Line” and becomes concerned about Wilbur’s well being. Also I think for this to work Philza won’t be Wilbur’s dad since if he is he’ll know about him writing it.  
> Requested by VioletsAreViolet and Vicarious_Virgo

Phil had always said how proud he was of his children. One a warrior, one a musician. Both paths were completely different, but that only made him more prouder, knowing his children had a sense of self. 

Wilbur had always been keen on his music career, ever since he was young. And it always blew Phil’s mind away to see that Wilbur had started to walk down that long and hard path after so many years of long nights practicing, his son’s fingers constantly strumming the acoustic guitar. 

On the other hand, Techno was in love with the art of war from a young age. While his brother would be playing the guitar, Techno would be practicing and improving his combat skills at any opportunity he could. Phil still remembers teaching his boys how to hold a sword for the first time, how Techno instantly caught on and how Wilbur struggled to keep his stance. 

Basically, Phil felt like it was an absolute honour to be the one to raise his sons, he was the one who helped make them into the people they are today and good god he doesn’t regret a single thing.

At the moment, the main focus of the family had been Wilbur and his upcoming music career. He had just started work on an album of his, ‘Your City Gave Me Asthma’. 

Wilbur hadn’t told anyone what it was about, or how he conveyed what he was feeling through the lyrics. All they know is that it was about being in love with a girl who would never love you back, end of story. 

What they didn’t know was how he related to the words in the songs. He stayed with the same story, the same motive, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t add some truth behind it. Whenever he would sing one of the songs from the album, Wilbur would scream some lyrics at the top of his lungs, finally letting the pressure release from his mind, and no one could judge him, and sometimes at certain words he would allow his voice to go from loud and booming to a calming soft melody. 

The meanings to certain lyrics would absolutely, without a doubt, shock a lot of people. He could always make up some bullshit lie about what this lyric meant, when in fact it had a tiny hidden message.

Those messages would range from ones of kindness and love, to how his mind felt at that specific moment of time. Whether it was filled with sadness or not. Knowing how Wilbur would always dramatize his emotions, it was usually the latter. 

Saline solution had to be a perfect example of this, with the lyrics being ‘If I could just break one more night, Maybe I could wake up and feel alright’. 

Wilbur can remember writing that lyric. It was very fucking early in the morning, most likely around 4 am. He felt so tired and worn out, staying up the entire night just to finish the song and get the chords written so he could record later that day.

And during that process, his brain was basically the equivalent of mush, sitting in his skull. Shitty, and most definitely losing ten brain cells every time he wrote a word on the document he had open on his desktop. The document just stared at him for the entire fucking night, constantly daunting him and reminding Wilbur that he had a job to do. 

So, if he could break one more night, get the job done as easily and quickly as he could, he would feel more happier with himself the next morning. But, the next morning just felt like someone had slapped him in his face, forced him to eat dog shit, and get along through the day without crying.

However, much to Wilbur’s best efforts, he did end up crying. He was recording the song at his little in-home studio, when his eyes decided to open up the dams and let every last drop of salt flavoured tears out.

Wilbur could give an accurate attempt at giving a reason to why he was crying at any given day, and this day was no different. This cry was most likely due to the fact that he had gotten zero sleep for fuck knows how long, and was exhausted to every bone that was inside his stupid body.

Wilbur couldn’t guess that Phil would decide to walk in the fucking room, at 7 am in the morning. God, Phil had always been an early riser but what in god’s name did he think was going to happen when he walked in? To see a happy, totally not crying, Wilbur in sleeping in bed? Of course not. 

Phil slowly walked over to Wilbur’s microphone set-up, leaning against the padded wall. He watched as his son sang, reading the lyrics on the sheet that stood in front of Wilbur. Shit, Wilbur hadn’t even noticed Phil walk in yet. 

Then the lyric came, the lyric just sent Wilbur over the edge. His voice sounded hoarse as he sang the line, ‘If I could just break one more night, Maybe I could wake up and feel alright.’. 

The lyric was scribbled on the sheet, crossing out a lyric from before. Phil still wonders what the original lyric was sometimes. 

As Wilbur sang, he could feel his eyes cry. He still felt like shit, but he had to get this done. But, the lyric just made him cry more. 

Wilbur was taken back to feel his father’s hand suddenly touch his shoulder, and he jumped back a little before screaming, “What the fuck are you doing?”.

Phil looked at him, his face covered with an expression of sympathy, and spoke with a gentle tone, “Calm down, it’s only me, jesus. It’s more like what the fuck are you doing, mate. You’re never up this early, and you're crying.”

His son rubbed his nose and gave a small sniffle, before staring to look Phil in the eyes, “Trying to get this god damn song finished, but I feel like shit. Imagine someone just coming in while you're working, ripping up your work, and giving you a kiss to say ‘hey, finish’. It fucking sucks.”

Phil chuckled quietly at Wilbur’s metaphor, or whatever he was going to call it, “I see. Well, here’s a top tip, why didn’t you try sleeping? When was the last time you slept?”. 

Wilbur had to think about that one for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched in thought, then said, “I couldn’t! My brain was practically itching at me to write.”

“Then you got all pissy that you couldn’t I presume,” Phil interrupted, “Wilbur, go to bed. You look like you need it. We can talk and write all you want, but until then, promise me you’ll go to bed.”

Wilbur sighed in defeat, way too fucking tired to argue and walked to his bed, Phil staring at his every move. 

Phil smiled as he walked out, turning off the light, “Night Wilbur, you’ll feel alright. Trust me.”


	8. Weird Fucking Figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one involving Wilburs night adventures?  
> Requested by Star

The village at night had to be one of Wilbur’s favourite things to ever exist. With the lanterns helping to brighten up the cracked pavement, fewer people on horses would pass by, and streets empty with noise. To Wilbur, it seemed like heaven on earth. 

And Wilbur constantly took advantage of this, ever since he was allowed out at night, he would put on his jacket and woolly black beanie before leaving. If Wilbur was ever seen outside, it would be at night, wandering the cold winter streets. 

That’s how it's always been for Wilbur for years, and he preferred it stayed that way. Just him and the stars, no one else. 

Well, one night, that didn’t seem the case. 

Wilbur took one of the routes he hasn’t taken in a while, just to feel fresh. It gets repetitive taking the same trip every day. 

He had been walking down the shabby looking road when a dark and shadowy figure started to walk on the opposite side of the pavement. Now, Wilbur wasn’t dumb. His father had told him many ways to stay safe during whatever he was doing. Phil would always be worrying about his boys, but he was a retired adventurer, he was going to prepare for the worst.   
  
And for once, Phil was actually right about preparing for the worst.

The shadowy figure felt like it was speeding up, picking up the pace. Wilbur crossed the corner, trying his best to get back onto his usual path. Fuck, Wilbur shouldn’t of taken the ‘fresh’ route. God, that was such a stupid fucking idea. 

He could sense the glare that came from the...thing. What was he even meant to call it? Wilbur wasn’t sure what it was, and it definitely didn’t look fucking human, he could say that much. Even if it was somehow human, it looked terrifying. 

Anyways, the stare he was getting from it seemed closer. Like it had started following him for real now.

Wilbur would be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to feel on edge. All he had to do now was get home, quickly and preferably safely.  
He stayed as close to the lights as he could, in case anyone else would be wandering the streets at this time. It was a small chance that anyone else was, but it was worth a try.

Out of fucking nowhere, he felt a breath down his neck. There was now way that he could pass that as being wind, it was cold outside for fucks sake. Wilbur wasn’t sure when his flight or fight responses were going to kick in, but they needed to hurry up and choose.

That's when he started to run. He didn’t expect this walk to turn into a run, but he sure as hell didn’t wanna be caught by whatever it was chasing him. 

Phil and Techno sat at home, growing concern. Wilbur’s walks didn’t take this long, and the father was worried. 

“Phil, he’ll be home soon. He’s probably just looking at the stars or something like that. You know what Wilbur can be like.” Techno said, attempting to give Phil some form of relief.

“I know, I know. But I still have this gut feeling, like something is wrong out there. It’s a parental instinct, you can’t change instincts Techno. Lord I wish I could, but sometimes they can be right. And I’m scared tonight is one of those nights where it is.” Phil replied, eyes still fixated on the window.

“Well, if you think it’s right, then go. I’ll stay here in case he comes back, I promise.” Techno smiled, putting his hand on his father’s shoulders. Phil nodded and rushed to get his classic sun hat, quickly closing the door and screamed out something Techno could barely hear.

“Make sure you keep an eye out!”

“You too! Stay safe!” Techno called back as he watched Phil run out onto the streets in the cold night. 

Phil kept his eyes alert, looking at every spot he thought Wilbur could possibly go. He didn’t usually join Wilbur on his walks, so Phil would have no idea where he might have run off to.

The father listened to the littlest of sounds, hoping Wilbur would be making some form of noise, anything to help make sure Wilbur was safe and sound.

That’s when he decided to use the best tactic Phil knew of, his wings. Why did he waste all this time fucking about when he knew that he can just bat his wings and hope Wilbur would recognise him? He had inherited the wings for a reason, not to just look pretty. 

So, he held still for a moment before letting his black feathered wings loose, and move. Now, Wilbur’s wings weren’t as developed as Phil’s, he was only half the hybrid Phil was and was most likely still growing them in. They can only just get Wilbur off the ground, and the wings themselves look like long twigs with a few feathers. 

Wilbur continued running, and paid attention to his surroundings. The thing seemed to slow down, and Wilbur took this as an opportunity to hide and gather his thoughts and breathe. 

He slumped against the brick wall, staying behind the bakery that him and Techno would regularly visit. Slowly, he breathed in and out. Wilbur could hear the faint sound of heavy wings flapping, probably from a big bird or some shit.

Shit. How long had Wilbur been out now? Fuck, Phil and Techno were probably worried. Well, maybe not Techno as much, but he knows Phil had to be worried.

Thinking of Phil, he was probably the flapping sound he heard. Come to think of it. Their family used certain things as different signals all the time, so there has to be a chance that it was him.

“Dad? Dad where the fuck are you?” Wilbur shouted, his head peering around the brick wall, checking to see if the figure was still there.

It appears the figure has either morphed, and become a familiar silhouette of his father or has ran away and been replaced by Phil. Lord does he hope it’s the latter, because no fucking way he wants to deal with the first option.

“Wilbur? Can you tell me where you are?” Phil looked around, trying to look where Wilbur could be. Why was Wilbur hiding?

“I’m behind the bakery, I’m coming out now!” Wilbur stood up, certain he should be safe now, and stepped out onto the street.

It felt like a flash, Phil came fucking running at him, tackling Wilbur into a hug, “God. Where were you? Even Techno was worried about you, Wil”.

“Can we just go home? I feel like shit.” Wilbur looked at his father, a sense of desperation in his eyes. Phil nodded, letting go of his hold around his son.

“Of course.” Phil smiled as he walked along the pavement, his son on his side. 


	9. First Mining Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if you could do something where Wilbur has a panic attack? I dunno really, just anything with angst is amazing  
> Requested by sn00dle_noodle
> 
> TW // panic attacks

When Wilbur said he wanted to go out and mine with his brother for once, Phil was fucking elated. Wilbur had always been an indoor kid, rarely going out to venture with him and his brother, Techno. He would always stay indoors, nestled by the fireplace with whatever book he hadn’t read yet.

Phil geared his boys with the usual equipment to make sure they would stay safe, armour and so on, and gave Techno something extra. 

He gave Techno one of his old communicators. Phil could trust Techno not to take on any challenge he couldn’t handle, but he couldn’t do the same with Wilbur- the curly haired boy had a tendency to make the simplest tasks harder for himself, always wanting to prove something to Phil, constantly yearning for his father’s approval. 

The twins were given a short mining route, with very little chance for any danger or something to bring harm to the boys. However, much to Phil’s pleads and warnings, the twins went farther than Phil wanted. Way farther.

Phil stayed at their little cottage, preparing food for when they came back, knowing the young boys would be hungry. He was running around the kitchen when he heard his communicator ring from the living room. The communicator rang twice before he answered, seeing Techno’s name pop up on the screen.

Before Phil could even get a chance to speak, Techno’s voice came blaring through the speaker, “Dad? I need you to get here as soon as you can. Can you see my cords?”

“Yeah, I can see them. What’s happened?” Phil asked, his voice practically bursting with tons of concern. 

“Just- Wilbur got hurt and I don’t know how to help. Just hurry up please dad.” Techno rushed, and Phil could hear a quiet mumble from the background.

Phil rushed out the door as soon as he could, a spare medicine kit attached to his belt. God damn it, he gave them one rule: to not go that far out. And what did they decide to do?

He can’t blame them though, they are only just kids. Children always have the tendency to run off and completely ignore instructions. And, the more that Phil thinks about it, he comes to a conclusion that Wilbur probably ran off and poor Techno being the one to go find him. 

After he checked the coordinates, Phil let himself soar into the air, trying to get to the cave before anything else happens. The trees turning into a mesh of green and brown in his peripheral vision, and up front he sees a small mountain. He looks into the digital communicator map, and checks he is at the right place, or at least close enough that he can take a landing. 

It turns out he was nearby, thank fuck. Phil lands slowly, his wings going back into a natural position, facing the ground, and walks ahead. 

“Boys? Where are you?” He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cave. Phil takes a few more steps inside the cave, trying to hear an answer. 

His ears pick up a hushed, trembling voice, coming from below. The winged hybrid’s eyes trace over to a hole that had been covered with rocks that ranged sizes. Phil spoke again, “Techno? Wilbur? Dad is going to need one of you to speak louder. I'm not sure where you are.”

He can hear shuffling before a louder, less shakier voice making its ways through the rock, “In here! Hurry up! Wilbur- he’s hurt and I- please just hurry up. My hands are sore from trying to break through before you got here.”

Within a few moments, Phil was clawing at the rocks, his hands getting scratches upon seconds of touching the sharp rock. God fucking damn it, his hands hurt, but he was going to get his boys out no matter what stood in his way. 

Phil stepped back as dust and rock came down, his wings shielding what he couldn’t dodge. He could see a flicker of light coming from the torches he had given them before they left. 

The father ran forward, seeing Techno and Wilbur huddled in a corner. He wrapped his arms around the boys in a tight embrace. It didn’t last long though, as he could hear Techno speak. 

“Dad, get off please. Wilbur is hurt, yknow?” Techno said, his head peeking over his dad’s shoulder to breathe. Phil slowly pulled back and looked down, to see Wilbur being held in his twin brother’s arms. 

While Phil did smile at how Techno was holding him, he had to get Wilbur to calm down and talk. 

“Wilbur? Can you sit up? I need you to look at me, Wil.”

Techno held Wilbur’s arms as he set up, giving his brother support. Phil could see a small graze on Wilbur’s knee. Now, any other kid could probably handle it, but Wilbur wasn’t just any other kid; he was delicate in every way, like fine china. Anything that hurt him, would extern a reaction out of the boy.

Wilbur looked at Phil with a small glance before his eyes darting around them. He could see all the fallen rocks, the mining equipment on the floor. Has something gone wrong? His knee hurt, and he honestly felt like crying. 

So that’s what he did; Wilbur took a breath in before letting himself cry, the tears falling down his face. Techno stared between him and Phil, confused as to what to say. 

Phil spoke for him, concerned for Wilbur, “Hey. Hey. Take a moment. Can you breathe for me? Hold in for 4 and out for 4. Just as we do usually.”

Wilbur did as he was told, joining his father in the breathing exercise. After observing him, Techno finally spoke, “We...may or may not have wandered off. And, we may or may not have gotten lost for a moment. Wilbur panicked, and ran into here. I think you know what happened next. I’m sorry for not listening.”

Phil smiled at Techno, his eyes showing forgiveness, “Don’t be sorry. Things happen. Now, Wilbur, wanna describe what you can see?”. Wilbur nodded, looking around the cave.

“You, Techno, rocks, a lot of rocks, the torch on the floor, and the equipment on the floor.”

“There we go. Techno, pick up the pickaxes for me. I trust you with them, Wilbur seems a bit shaken up. C’mon, lets go. I’m sure you’re both tired.”

Wilbur stayed on Phil’s back as Techno raced ahead on the way home. Phil knew he would have to patch up the injuries all 3 of them had. Just, make sure he never sends the twins out to go mining for a while. 


	10. Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sleepy!wilbur maybe? phil is trying to get him to go to sleep, and when he finally does (on a couch or something) he just turns to the others in the room like 'he hasn't sleep in like three days, i swear to god if you wake him up i will cut a bitch'  
> Requested by Serendipitous_Posts

Wilbur’s sleep schedule was absolutely fucked. Every night in a row for the past week, he had been waking up in the evening and going to bed at god knows in the morning. It was like he was nocturnal, or at least trying to be. 

Phil had been trying to get Wilbur to sleep, or at least have a nap, for a few days now. He was concerned; Wilbur would shove all his work from whatever he was doing into the night, and, on top of that, Wilbur probably hadn’t had a proper meal in ages. The only food anyone has seen Wilbur eat would be bowls of cereal. 

Actually, that would be the only time they would see him before the rest of their tiny family went to bed. Wilbur would come downstairs around 7pm, make his bowl of cereal (maybe a drink, but that was only when he had slept more that day), and go back upstairs. 

Later in the evening, Phil and Techno could sometimes hear Wilbur going back downstairs for a drink before Wilbur made his way back upstairs. 

One night, Techno had been downstairs in the kitchen when he had seen Wilbur come down for a drink, and just by looking at him Techno was able to positively say that Wilbur looked like a fucking wreck. He could see the purple bags that hung from Wilbur’s brown eyes, and his glasses would only make them appear larger. Wilbur’s lips would look cracked and broken when he first came down, then they would soften up after whatever bowl of cereal he had eaten. 

After a few nights of this, Phil decided that he had enough of Wilbur’s bullshit. Phil stayed in the kitchen and waited for Wilbur to come down, leaning against one of the stone top counters. His eyes darted to the clock that was on the wall and checked the time. It was around 7pm, meaning Wilbur would be making his way down soon.

He could hear Wilbur’s footsteps descend down the stairs, averting his gaze towards him. Wilbur looked at Phil and smiled before going to fill up his cup as normal. 

“Wilbur, did you even get any sleep today? You look more…dead than usual” Phil asked. 

Wilbur stared at him for a moment after he turned off the tap, “I-no.”

“Wilbur. Go sit on the sofa. If you’re not going to rest, you can at least sit down. We’ve done this song and dance and it only ends up with you being more tired.” Phil sighed, his hands pinching the bridge of his nose for a couple of seconds as he spoke.

The musician went to protest, but saw the way his father was looking at him. Phil’s facial expression just screamed ‘I’m done with your shit’ vibes and Phil was right, Wilbur was too tired to deal with it. 

“Fine. But don’t,” Wilbur stopped talking as he went to yawn, then continued with what he was saying, “expect me to stay there long.”

Phil hummed and hid a smirk as he and Wilbur walked over to the sofa, knowing he had won. Wilbur rested his drink on the small table that stood in front of them.

“You happy?” Wilbur said, yawing again immediately after. 

“As long as you get some rest, yes.” Phil smiled. 

The two sat in silence, basking in the dim lights of the room. Wilbur slowly moved over time, as he got more tired, to a better and comfortable position; his head against Phil’s shoulder. His head sat in between his shoulder and neck, and Wilbur would be lying if he said it wasn’t comfy. He wouldn’t go as far as to say it was more comfier than his own bed, but it was definitely up there.

Phil gave a sigh of relief. At fucking last. 

Techno walked down the stairs and looked at the two on the sofa. He laughed a little before Phil quickly interrupted him. 

“Shhhhh. Be quiet. I just got him to lay down and I am not having anyone fuck this up.” Phil glared at Techno.

Techno only laughed more, wheezing in between his words, “He’s not a fuckin’ child or some shit, Phil.”

“I know, I know,” He repeated, “But you sure the amount of sleep he was getting. Wilbur has got one messed up sleeping schedule. And he clearly wasn’t gonna fix it, was he?”

“True. It’s just the funniest thing ever seeing Wilbur all pressed against you. He’s a fucking giant and I have no idea who the hell that position is working.”

  
“Just- go do what you came down here for. Be quiet.”

The pink haired man walked off, and Phil could fucking hear the smile in the way Techno talked, “Whatever you say old man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this one is quite short, but ive been having trouble writing and shit. hope yall like it :)


	11. Dada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request by Lili_Marlene  
> Philza appeared in L'Manberg earlier on. During the revolution, to be precise. Wilbur's downwards spiral started earlier than most believe, when he'd started throwing his mental and physical health under the bus to keep everyone else's afloat during the, well, revolution. (AKA Phil helps Wilbur earlier on, at the root of the problem and that changes the rest of L'Manberg's history  
> PSA FOR THIS CHAPTER: Techno and Wilbur aren’t brothers. Techno sees Wilbur as a nephew due to his and Phil’s close relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests are back open!!!

The amount of letters Phil had gotten could probably fill up an entire one hundred foot cave, if he was being honest. Techno and even other members would constantly write to him to plead and beg for him to come and join both nations. 

Because of all the letters, Phil has some clue of what’s going on. Wilbur started a whole nation because he wanted to sell drugs, ran for president, lost and got instantly banished. Good god. And now, according to Techno, he is living in a fucking ravine and wants to blow up the nation that he made with his own two hands, and an incredibly strong will. 

When he had opened up the letter from Techno, the last thing he expected to see was words mentioning Wilbur acting ‘fucking weird’, if he were to quote the letter. 

This wasn’t the Wilbur he knew. This ‘thing’ was someone who wanted chaos and anarchy. Phil can give Techno a pass for anarchy, the poor piglin had been through a lot in his lifetime, and because of what both Techno and him have been through together, he could relate and see why Techno wanted what he wanted. Wilbur on the other hand, he just couldn’t. Techno wasn’t his son, but Wilbur was his fucking son, his own god damn blood.

Whatever Wilbur had manifested into definitely wasn’t the man he raised: the small infant whose first word had been a loud cry of ‘dada’, the loud toddler he taught how to walk, the innocent child who spent hours on his guitar, the angsty teenager who he helped when he was struggling. Phil raised a kind hearted and caring man who helped anyone the best he could.

Now, his son just wanted chaos and to destroy his own nation, bring it into a hole in the ground covered in ash and dirt. Simply due to the fact that he had lost an election. While Phil always knew Wilbur was one for the dramatics, he never expected Wilbur to outright plan an entire fucking revolution. 

Wilbur and Techno were hunched over on their rough stone table where they would host meetings, often discussing new plans about their destruction to L’Manberg. Techno knew that Phil would be arriving soon, and he did his best to make sure that his friend and nephew didn’t find out.

“I don’t even know who’s on our side anymore. Fundy works for the fucking man, and Niki has just straight up abandoned us!” Wilbur exclaimed , his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Make a list.” Techno suggested to Wilbur in a calm and delicate tone, trying his best to keep him stable. Any wrong switch flipped and Wilbur’s whole mood can change, like the blink of an eye. 

“What do you mean make a list? That’s not gonna do shit Techno!” Wilbur stood up now, pacing around the table while Techno stayed seated on the small chairs that they had. 

That didn’t last for long though, as he got up and spoke, “Pass me some of the signs. We are gonna want to partition it, can you name any major fractions? We have the obvious, Pogtopia and Manberg.”

Wilbur thought for a minute, humming before answering, “We might need a neutral side. Plus the Badlands and Boomerville. I don’t know where they stand but it might be worth putting them on there.”

“Maybe not Boomerville, they aren’t as powerful. But the other two are worth it. From what I’ve heard, the Badlands seem to be neutral. So instead of writing all members’ names, it’ll be easier to just write down the fraction’s name under neutral.” Techno said as he carved the words into the wooden signs.

Wilbur heard footsteps coming from the stairs. He turns to Techno in a rushed panic. They had been caught. Fuck. Schlatt was coming and they were both going to die and rot away in prison and it would have all been for nothing-

“Calm down. It’s probably some lost animal or something. It’ll be gone in no time.” Techno’s eyes quickly divert to the stairs before going back to reassuring Wilbur, “We would know if it was anyone else. No one is that dumb to come down here alone.”

When Techno looked at the looping stone staircases, his eyes were able to catch a flash of a green robe. The pig hybrid internally sighed, knowing who it was. 

“Techno.” Wilbur glared at Techno, finally standing straight and still for the first time for what felt in ages.

“Wilbur.” Techno repeated, exact same monotone voice.

“I’m going to go check what is up there.” Wilbur rushed across the ravine to the stairs, Techno chasing after him like they used to when Wilbur was little. 

“Wilbur! It’s nothing!” Techno shouted, trying his best to get Wilbur to listen. 

Wilbur turned and dashed up the stairs, not looking where he was going. He felt his leg trip and Wilbur swears he was about to fall back down. 

But a pair of arms caught him. Not from the back, but from the front of him. 

“Calm down there, mate.” A familiar voice spoke. 

“What-Phil? What are you-huh?” Wilbur got himself in a more stable position, standing on one of the built-in landings attached to the stairs and walls.

Why the fuck was Phil here? He didn’t seem to care before.

“Techno called me over.” Phil simply replied, making his way past Wilbur and continuing down the stairs. 

Wilbur followed after him, a new look of ‘fuck you’ on his face that was directly aimed at Techno. 

Techno smiled at the two, before retreating into his potato farm, “Have fun with this one, Wil.”

The father and son stayed in silence for a moment; Phil was taking in the ravine, he had only heard about it but good lord did it look more barren, and Wilbur was in shock. Techno, the bastard, had spoken to Phil. Probably, told Phil of his plans. Shit. 

“Why are you here?” Wilbur asked, weary of what Phil was going to do. Was he going to make him go back with him? He can’t do that, he’s spent so much time on this revolution. It would be a complete fucking waste to go back now. Wilbur needs to finish what he started. He needs to get rid of L’Manberg.

“Just wanted to check up on you. People have been telling me you...how do I put this? You’ve been acting not like yourself. Do you wanna tell me myself or do I have to go through all the letters people have written to me?” Phil asked, his hands tracing the dusty and rough walls of the ravine. He turned to face Wilbur, and leant against the wall; his wings going inwards on themselves into a heart-like shape.

“I….I don’t know. Everything’s gone wrong and I have to be the one to fix it. I have to fix what I started. No matter the costs.” 

There was an obvious question that Phil could ask, it hung in the air, but he wasn’t going to ask it. The only outcomes from that question that Phil thought of were all riddled with arguments, and Wilbur most likely never wanting to speak to his father again. So, he settled for a much easier route. 

“Are you okay Wilbur?” 

Jesus fucking christ. Wilbur hated that question. Every time someone asked him that question, Wilbur swore he could feel ten years off his lifespan. But this time, he didn’t feel hatred towards it. He felt more glad to have heard it. Maybe his dad does care. 

“The truth is no. I feel like-like shit. Everyone has abandoned me for a horn headed fuck who doesn’t even care about the country! My country that I started with my own two hands! Everyone I felt like I could trust has fallen away. And I hate it. I hate it so much.” Wilbur hadn’t even noticed the few tears that fell out of his eyes until he could taste the faint flavour of salt on his lips. 

“Wil, you know you could have sent me a letter. Lord knows how many other people have. I’m sorry for not coming sooner. Come here.” Phil opened his arms for Wilbur, a smile on his face. 

Wilbur crashed into Phil, his arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His head fell into the crook of Phil’s neck. Phil leant his head on Wilbur’s. He missed this. They both missed it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oi!!!! i said requests are open :)


	12. Loud Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still doing requests might I request a Warden hybrid!Wilbur fic? Wardens are new mobs coming to mc in 1.17 and I thought it’d be pretty fitting for him, seeing as they have to do with sound. And since they have pretty sensitive hearing you could probably do some angst stuff with that and explosions  
> Requested by WantedButcher  
> H0bblyW0bbly/HobblyWobbly helped out with this one so everyone go give big props to them :D

  
Wilbur had spent years underground, he can’t remember the last time he went outside. Up above, all the sounds scared him. Too overwhelming. Every little sound was amplified to the absolute maximum and it scared him. 

His adoptive father, Phil, was the one to go up and get resources. Phil was a winged hybrid- meaning he didn't have the same troubles as Wilbur, yet he was always there for the boy compared to Wilbur’s biological parents. When Phil had found Wilbur, the child had been sitting under a tree with his small hands holding tightly to his blue tinted ears. He still remembers comforting Wilbur and bringing him down into one of Phil’s many underground mining strips upon realising the boy was a young warden hybrid who was still very sensitive to sound.

That same mining strip was the one Phil developed into their home once he came to the conclusion that Wilbur’s parents weren’t coming to get him. He had to move all his resources down here, and Phil can easily admit it was a hard journey. Phil was constantly making trips back to his base for a solid week before everything was down. Then there was the actual task of building a safe enough environment for the child hybrid. But, Phil cared for the boy, and he wasn’t going to give up. 

Growing up, Phil would tell Wilbur stories of his past adventures, or what happened that night while he was out when Wilbur had been sleeping. Wilbur would always give small laughs or quiet quips. He always kept his voice low, as not to startle Wilbur. It was only when Wilbur was during his teenage years he started to get used to the sound around him. Certain sounds still scared him, but only when he was caught off guard or in general just extremely loud. 

Phil was so proud of Wilbur and his hearing improvements. 

Wilbur was a young adult, and both him and Phil had agreed that he could go up. Phil had prepared him for this moment and he couldn’t be any more happy for his son. The two walked up the torched stairway that Phil used whenever he needed to leave. 

  
His jaw dropped as he saw the outside. The sky was beautiful, with flowers littering the green floor. Wilbur ran out, falling onto the grassy ground and let his fingers sift through each straw. He let out a small giggle.

Phil smiled, walking over to join Wilbur on the floor, “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Wilbur nodded frantically, “I want to stay up here forever.”

“I know, maybe one day,” Phil sighed, “for now though, let's go exploring. There’s so much I want you to see.”. He grabbed Wilbur’s arm and pulled him up, wiping the dirt from both sets of clothing. 

Lord, Phil still holds that memory in his heart. It never fails to bring a tear to his eye. How Wilbur’s eyes practically bulged, or how Wilbur’s smile reached across his whole face. 

Yet now, here he stood, at the end of a hallway, watching his son monologue. 

“What are you doing?”

Wilbur snapped his head around, confused at his father’s sudden appearance. 

Phil repeated what he said, this time less softly, “What. Are. You. Doing.”

His hands flew into the air, trying to explain what’s happening. Wilbur mentioned the button, what the button was going to do. The father walked closer, placing his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder.

“And you just want to blow it all up?” 

Wilbur frantically nodded, a wide grin across his face, “I do. Techno is about to summon the withers. Everything is going to ash.” 

“Wilbur, you don’t have to do this. You’ve come so far, please just listen to me.” Phil’s face softened, “Look, you can stay here and blow it all up. Or you can come with me, and we can go somewhere calm. Somewhere quiet.”

Before Wilbur could even finish what he was saying, a loud bang came humming through the room. He instantly brought his hands to his still blue ears, like Wilbur would when he was younger, and flinched. 

Phil instantly got a hold of Wilbur, acting purely on instinct, trying his best to calm the man down. However, Wilbur quickly pulled away and attempted to speak, “You-fucking hell- see? They have already set them off! Now fucking let-let-let me go!”

The bangs outside only got louder, and Wilbur ended up retreating to the corner of the makeshift room. His hands still firmly planted on his ears. Wilbur flung his arm out, trying his best to reach the button. But, his hand only landed back in its position upon a bang appearing closer, some of the rock dust falling on the father and son. 

Phil swung past the chair, immediately next to Wilbur. Once again, Phil’s hands landed on Wilbur’s shoulders. His eyes looked into Wilbur’s tightly closed ones. 

“Wilbur, honey, calm down. I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.” Phil spoke in a hushed voice, exactly like he used to when Wilbur would get panicked or overwhelmed with noise. 

Wilbur shook his head, his eyes still firmly closed. “They’ve-they’ve started. Get out. Let me do what I need to do. Please-” He choked out, his hand absently reaching out towards the button. 

Looking around, Phil knew the room would start collapsing in on them. Rocks and piles of dust were starting to fall on them. He grabbed a hold of Wilbur’s hand before rushing out the small tunnel and out onto the bottom of the hill it was in. Wilbur was shouting when they got out, immediately turning and running towards the fight that was happening in front of them. Phil went after him, stopping as Wilbur came to a halt.

Wilbur’s knees suddenly fell out below him, and he fell onto the grass only half way up the hill. His father held him and picked him up before flying away as far as he could. He finally set Wilbur down within a mushroom forest and sat next to him, cradling the hybrid in his wings. The sound of explosions could be faintly heard in the background, but they were quiet enough to deal with before Phil regained his strength again.

“Are you okay Wil? You kinda flopped on me there.” Phil asked, his voice quiet and low. 

Wilbur’s arms clawed at Phil as he tried to find a spot to cling on to. His head shook again in response, his ears ringing.“Too...loud. Didn’t like it.” Wilbur answered, his words spaced out. 

Phil held him more tighter, slightly rocking the shaken man. He whispered words of reassurance, telling him that everything was okay and he was going to be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests are now closed :)


	13. Our Voices Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My idea is dadza knows morse code and overhears the .... . .-.. .--. (It says help). During one of Wilbur's streams he said something similar to that in morse code. I'm pretty sure it doesn't necessarily mean help. but he said something similar. Anyways back to the idea, this is in the dream smp minecraft is the real world au (you know what I mean). At that time where Wilbur says help in morse code, Phil thought he was hallucinating until he kept hearing that again, so phil gets concerned. When Wilbur says the morse code and others ask about "that sound" he always says it's nothing.   
> Request by VioletsAreViolet  
> Once again, thanks so much HobblyWobbly/H0bblyW0bbly for helping :D

  
Phil knew something was up for a while now. Wilbur would isolate himself for hours on end, usually running off into the forests that were nearby their small winter cottage. This might be seen as normal behaviour to anyone else, but Phil knew Wilbur. He was his son for goodness sake. 

It had been tough recently, Wilbur was newly resurrected and was probably still getting used to being able to feel things again; actual emotions, physical pain and the world in general. Therefore, he could understand why Wilbur might be wanting to go out and enjoy the world. Yet something still felt off. Like something was going wrong. 

He could say that is due to the fact that it’s probably one of his ‘fatherly instincts’ flaring up, Phil uses heavy quotes for that. But using that excuse each time he suddenly got a bad feeling about where his son was and what he was doing was starting to get more...wrong. 

On top of that, the voice in his head was practically screaming at him to make sure that Wilbur stayed safe. Both of his sons had what they call the voices. Each of the three men's voices acting differently. 

Phil’s was more wise and protective of his sons. It would give tips to help whatever he was doing, and easily pick up on trouble, especially if it was Techno or Wilbur in danger. Then they would scream and shout for Phil to attack, or swoop in and protect his boys.

Techno definitely had the most extreme. His would demand violence and blood, declaring Techno the ‘blood god’. The only striking similarities his and Phil’s had was that both knew when to attack, and both were extremely defensive of their family and loved ones.

Wilbur’s on the other hand, were much more gentle. They would love the sound of music, writing melodies on the spot. His would react differently to combat. While Techno’s would shout at Techno to attack and defend himself and others, Wilbur’s would take a calm approach. Thinking more strategically and planning for the more long term effects. 

So, when Phil’s voices even intervened, telling him how Wilbur was in danger, he knew he had to at least try and find his son to see if he was okay. He geared himself with what he would need: a medkit, his enchanted nethorite sword, his communicator and his classic green and white sun hat. Once grabbing what he needed, he left the stone and wooden cottage, leaving a few logs in the fireplace so their home would be warm upon return. 

After a few minutes of flying around the spruce forest with no luck, his communicator pinged. He found a safe place to land before checking the message. It had been from Wilbur to everyone, surprisingly. The message spoke morse code, a code that Phil knew some of. Phil had to reread the text a few times, before realising what it said. 

‘.... . .-.. .--.’, the message for help. He fucking knew it. He fucking knew Wilbur was in trouble. His fingers immediately began typing, asking for his coords in the code too. The other people in chat seemed confused, asking what it meant. They were even more confused upon seeing Phil responding in morse code. Wilbur sent the numbers of where he was, and Phil immediately checked to see if he was nearby. 

He was only a short flight away, approximately a few hundred blocks if Phil had to estimate. Wilbur was on the outskirts of the snowy tundra. What he was doing, Phil had no clue. All he knew was that if Wilbur was typing in morse code, something was fucking urgent and he needed to get there quickly and make sure he was safe. 

Phil flew up into the air again, his eyes darting back down to his communicator every few minutes. A few quiet minutes passed of Phil gliding through the snowy air. He checked his communicator again, and realised he was very close to Wilbur. His body went down for a few seconds before flying again, letting himself be much more closer to the spruce trees. It would be easier to hear if Wilbur was having any trouble that required him to be verbal.

A brown blob-like figure was now in his view, and it appeared to be stuck on top of a tree. At the bottom of the tree were a few wolves, eyes a bright red and visible foam coming out of their mouths. 

He picked up speed, knowing that the wolves would practically claw Wilbur alive if the man were to fall. Wilbur’s head stayed up, frantically looking around to see if Phil had actually come to help. Black wings came into view, making their way towards him. 

The musician sighed, knowing he was going to be safe from the wolves. He didn’t mean to anger them; he was only trying to pet them, they seemed safe. Wilbur had no clue they would bite him and have the whole pack chase after him. He had to climb up a tree to get a way, and even then, he was scared they were going to get them. His fingers had been too weak to type out the message, so he used the device’s built in microphone and spoke morse code, or at least made the sounds Wilbur knew he would need. Good fucking lord is he happy someone noticed. And he was elated to know that it was his father.

Phil went in and quickly grabbed Wilbur by the armpits before flying off again, as far as he could before his arms got tired. The two ended up not that far away from the cottage, only a short walk. The father went back down, placing Wilbur gently on the floor as he did so. 

“Are you okay?” Phil asked, his eyes darting over Wilbur’s body to look for any visible marks. He held the boys arms, turning them before seeing the bite mark. He looked up at him, giving Wilbur a look of sympathy. 

Wilbur stared back, a small pout and puppy eyes appearing on his face, “I didn’t mean for the wolves to get mad. I only wanted to pet them.” he stuttered, a few small tears running down his cheeks.

Immediately Phil rushed to comfort him, wiping a few tears away with his thumb while the other hand reached for the medkit he stored in his brown leather pouch. 

“It’s okay, Wil. Just...don’t do that again. Next time, bring something with you. Not just your communicator, alright?”

Wilbur nodded, watching as Phil grabbed for a plaster and some cloth wipes. The cut wasn’t deep, only needing a few stitches, but Wilbur guessed they would do that once they reached home. 


	14. Fuck Anteaters, Parrots are better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by A lurking anon  
> if you could do a wholesome fic where Wilbur basically stims? Stimming is sometimes frowned upon even though it can’t be controlled, and I’m hoping if more people writing it in a positive way help. As for the prompt, Wilbur and Phil could be just chilling and watching tv when the stimming happens (if I had to guess what causes it, they could be watching animal planet and Wilbur sees a cute animal. A bit of self projecting but that’s how I start stimming lol)  
> Hey! Just wanna say as someone who stims too, i tried to write as best as i can, i used my stims as i didnt wanna fuck it up :)

Wilbur and Phil were sitting on the sofa, having a random documentary day. Both men took turns picking movies, Phil's being a choice of old history documentaries (which Wilbur relentlessly teased him for) and Wilbur skimming between history and animal documentaries. 

It was the funniest shit whenever an anteater came onto screen. Wilbur would sit and stare for a few seconds before screaming. Then, Phil would always try to explain that anteaters were safe, before eventually dying of laughter. 

“They’re not fucking normal Phil! Look at them! Look at how long their tails are! It’s the same size of their god damn bodies Phil! Imagine having a tail that was the size of me on my back, we would need extra space! They just look wrong!” Wilbur explained, various hand gestures being used, helping to explain his point.   
Phil just stared at him and laughed, “Wilbur it’s probably a defence mechanism-”

“Then that’s just more fucked! They have tails the size of them to what, fling their predators? Let the predators eat them for fucks sake. The world would be one hundred percent better without them. Tell me one time you’ve gone ‘oh yes I would not be here without anteaters, thank you’.” Wilbur turned to face him, a light hearted look of annoyance on his face. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought that, Wil.” Phil responded, a few tears of laughter slipping through. 

The conversation seemed to have ended there though, as Wilbur snapped his head back to look at the television to see if the anteaters had left. A sudden smile appeared on his face. He bounced in his seat, one of his hands moving the air. 

Phil looked at Wilbur and smiled, happy that his adoptive son was enjoying whatever animal came onto the screen.

“Phil! Look! Look at how fucking happy that parrot looks! He’s just vibing!” Wilbur beamed, snapping his fingers and his neck moving slightly. 

Phil chuckled at the parrots on screen, and how Wilbur was joyed when seeing them. “He is vibing pretty heavily there, not gonna lie.”

Wilbur gasped as the parrot on screen started to fly. “It’s like your elytra, Phil! The motherfucker stole your thing!”

His eyes let out more tears of laughter, keeling over a bit as he died laughing. “Wil-you know parr-you know what, sure. Fucker stole my wings.”

“Good. Let them have the wings. They are much better than you at flying anyways. Bet you couldn’t glide through trees.” Wilbur smirked at him, his eyes still glued to the television screen, thumb and forefinger still snapping at certain points. 

“You sly motherfucker!” Phil chuckled at Wilbur’s snarky reply. Wilbur fell back onto his part of the sofa, pleased with Phil’s response. 

“You know full well that I can do the exact same thing in minecraft.” Phil crossed his arms as a playful gesture. Wilbur fucking glared at him before speaking.

“Even then, you’re not a parrot. You can’t squawk. Bet a parrot could be a better dad.”

“Shut-fucking-shut. You little shit. Go ask the parrot to fix your pc then.” Phil said, leaning back more onto the comfortable sofa, his arms still crossed with the exact same light heartedness as before.

“I can’t just..call a parrot. That’s not how it works, Mr Minecraft.” Wilbur turned to him, a serious look on his face.

“Wil. You know what I meant.” Phil knew the game Wilbur was playing. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you could mean. I think you’re just jealous that the parrot is a better father than you.” Wilbur had a small smile on his face, quickly hiding it, trying his best to seem serious. 

“Wilbur I swear to god. I will not hesitate to craft a belt.” Wilbur broke his ‘serious facade’ and laughed, one of his hands going up and down as he did so. 

“Bet you won’t.”

Phil glared at him, and Wilbur stared back for a few seconds. The older smirked, and the moment Wilbur noticed, he got up from his spot and ran.   
“Get back here you chaotic shit!”

Wilbur ran up the stairs, making his way to his room, "Nope!"


	15. Cough Syrup Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request by sketchers_writes  
> could you do one where Wilbur gets sick and Phil looks after him?  
> cw // headache pills idk

Wilbur was slouched in his chair, his eyelids droopy, small bits of snot coming out of his nose and a banging in his head. Everything hurt and he was not enjoying it. Yet, he still sat here, the editing program open and previous footage of himself. He stared at the screen, not with haste, but with fucking piles of dread. 

God, he fucking hated being sick with every bone in his body. Whenever he was sick, he was never able to get any work done, constantly bed bound. And right now, with an important project sat on his computer, he really didn’t want to stay in bed for fuck knows how long.

His brain felt like a goddamn timer, bringing up deadlines and worrying thoughts whenever it wanted. Now, his brain was the timer. The only thoughts on his mind were ones of how much pain he was in, or that he had a video that was meant to be finished by the end of the week. 

On top of that, Wilbur really didn’t feel like bothering anyone, letting people know he was sick. Sure, messages of support were nice but holy shit can it be overwhelming. 

Holy shit, he really needed help right about now, but who is actually going to bother with him being sick? People have their own problems, and probably their own projects coming up.

Without even processing what he did, his fingers reached for his phone and opened up his contact list. He hadn’t even realised he had called Phil, until he heard Phil’s voice through the speaker. Wilbur jumped at first, but then calmed upon seeing it was Phil. 

“Wilbur, you alright?” A tired voice spoke. 

Shit. He had woken Phil up. God, Phil’s going to be mad at him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice that I called. Sorry, Phil.”

Surprisingly to Wilbur, Phil didn’t hang up. He responded, answering his own question, and with what sounded to be concern, “Nope, no you’re not. Your voice sounds like fucking shit, mate. You been crying?”

Wilbur gently shook his head as he answered, “Just kinda maybe feel sick. And, maybe, just maybe, I am in pain.”

“Jesus christ, Wil. How long have you been feeling like that for? You practically sound dead to the world.” Phil asked, Wilbur able to hear bits of rustling in the background. 

“I...probably a few days now. My head's been hurting a lot. And everything is banging.”

Wilbur had to wait a few seconds to hear Phil speak to him again, his voice muffled, “I’m on my way.”

The musician was immediately panicking. His flat was a mess. Fucking hell, he was a mess. Phil’s not going to want to come to a house that is the textbook definition of a pigsty. 

“Wilbur, I don’t care if your house is a mess, mate, I’m coming over whether you like it or not.”

Shit. Appears he spoke out loud. 

“Yup.” Phil laughed, Wilbur being able to hear the wind.

He did it again. God, his head hurt. 

“Go sit down, and make sure you turn off your computer for fucks sake. I’ll be there in, what? Twenty minutes. Just, try and get yourself cosy somewhere.”

Wilbur is really thankful that he gave Phil a spare key when him and Kristin first came to visit him in Brighton. He didn’t have to move from his spot on the sofa, wrapped up in his grey duvet and his orca plush by his side. 

Phil closed the door, and walked over to the sofa. He placed a small bag that he had brung with him on the table, The older crouched in front of Wilbur and felt his forehead for a few moments, flipping it once, and removed it before he stood up again. Wilbur would be lying if he said that Phil really wasn’t like a dad at times. 

“You are fucking scorching, Wil. Have you-nope. Not even any water.” Phil looked around where Wilbur was, not one piece of evidence that Wilbur had been drinking water. 

Wilbur went to stand up, before immediately being gently pushed back down by Phil, “Don’t even try it, Wilbur. You are staying right there. Or in your bed. That’s probably next, judging how you look right now, mate.” 

Phil went into the kitchen for a few moments, before coming back with a glass of water. He held out the water to Wilbur, who gladly took it, and went searching through his bag.

“Why do you have that?” Wilbur’s voice was still rough, but it didn’t hurt as much as before. 

“Kristin. After me telling her that she probably didn’t want to come and see you in your current state, she practically fucking forced me to take this. She calls it the ‘Mumza Kit’” Phil chuckled, thinking back to only a few moments ago when she had lodged the bag into his hands. 

Wilbur laughed a little too, before instantly coughing up. Phil had just finished looking for what he needed, so he was able to quickly rub Wilbur’s back to help soothe and comfort the brown haired man. The coughing fit calmed down after a few seconds, Wilbur’s hands rushing to get the glass water as soon as he could. Phil handed him the glass again, his hand still firmly yet softly on Wilbur’s back. 

After Wilbur calming down, Phil slowly removed his hold on Wilbur and gave Wilbur something in his hand. He had to hold it up close to read it. 

It was a headache tablet. Not that bad, at least it wasn’t some shitty tasting cough syrup.

“Have one of those, I’ve got to find the cough syrup.”

Wilbur snapped his head up, staring at Phil as he digested the pill. His father figure smiled at him, trying to lighten the room.

“Kristin even left a little post-it on it for you. I’m sorry, son.” Phil dramatized the end, trying his best to make Wilbur laugh a little.

His only response though, was a pout and Wilbur crossing his arms. “Can I just have the post-it and you keep the syrup?”

“Wil-”

“I am not having the fucking syrup Phil. I will, however, happily take the post-it, though.” Wilbur reached his hand up, snatching the post-it from the bottle Phil held in his hand and reading it.

‘Have fun with this one. Feel better soon, Wil :)’

Wilbur went to speak, wanting to say how this was all planned and set up by both his parental figures, before Phil deadass shoved the liquid down his throat. How Wilbur didn’t end up choking, he doesn’t know. He just stared at Phil with wide eyes. Phil felt his eyes cry as he laughed at Wilbur’s face. 

He even had the audacity to ruffle Wilbur’s hair, laughing at his pity.

“This is child abuse.”

“We truly are the cruellest for trying to make you feel better.”

  
  



	16. Pale Purple Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary  
> Requested by Fievel  
> maybe one where Phil manages to successfully stop him from pressing the button

Wilbur paced around the room, his eyes darting from sign to sign at the walls. Each time he entered this room, he felt like he was going just that little bit more insane than the last. And, after roughly seven times, his sanity felt like it was purely hanging by a thread. The only thing keeping him from pressing the button was the fact that Phil might actually still care. After a while of not responding to letters, Wilbur had gotten an enough understanding that his father had lost interest in his only son’s life. 

Yet, a small part of him still believed that Phil would come and hold him again; tell him how he was going to make everything feel better, just how Phil would when Wilbur was upset when he was a child. 

Whenever he would go to press the wooden button, Wilbur’s mind would always go back to the thought of Phil’s reaction. 

Would he be proud?

Would he hate his son and actually abandon him this time? 

God, what was Wilbur kidding. Of course Phil wouldn’t be fucking proud. Wilbur felt like he was a crimped shell of his old self: empty and broken, yet still yearning and craving for approval from anyone who would look his way. 

This wasn’t some children's story book. There wasn’t going to be any miracle, where someone was going to show up and cure his problems with a flick of their wand. At most, someone was going to come in here and try their best to pry him away. Some people did force him out, but he always ended up running back.

At least now people were too distracted with all of Techno’s withers outside to notice that he had run off behind the podium and into the man made room that sat inside the hill. He could hear the people outside, crying out in pain as Techno and Dream caused their chaos. 

Wilbur stood still. Fuck. New footsteps arrived at the end of the hallway. He forgot to block it up. Quickly, he crouched in front of the chair, in case someone had noticed that he wasn’t there anymore. His hands went up to his mouth, trying to be quiet. 

The footsteps came to a halt. Wilbur almost went to sigh before realising that the shadow of the person could be seen on the wall where the button sat. 

At the bottom, there were wooden sandals. Not that unusual. 

Then a cape just a few inches up. Once again, weird but not outstretched, Wilbur himself was donning a small and ripped black cape that was connected to his collar. 

Just above the cape, were wings, angled towards the floor. 

What? Was Wilbur seeing shit now? No one in this area had wings, not for miles out. The only person that Wilbur knew who had wings just majestic as those was Phil. 

“Wil? Are you in here?”

Yeah, that was definitely Phil. Now Wilbur wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay here and wait until Phil gave up and left, or get up and look his father in the eyes for the first time since Wilbur left the snowy biome all those years ago.

His hands held the small wooden chair as he stood, his knees starting to feel shaky and weak. Wilbur turned and walked in front of the chair , his back now facing the wall with the button and the least amount of signs. 

Phil gasped at the sight of Wilbur, his son’s arms looking like they were twigs, his face painted in white apart from the bags under his eyes which were now a pale purple.

“Wilbur. Are you...okay?” Phil asked, walking closer, his face not that far away from Wilbur’s. 

“I don’t know anymore. I really don’t fucking know, Phil. It’s too late not to press it, anyways.” Wilbur’s eyes were practically on fire as he finally looked at Phil. 

His father grabbed his shoulder and smiled, “Please, I beg, don’t. Everyone out there is already panicking and scared from the withers. And I have a feeling you are too. Techno told me about your deal, about how you, him and Dream are going to blow everything up. I know those two are past the point of no return, but I know that you are. I know that you can get out of this.”

Wilbur finally let a tear slip for what felt like the first time in years. He felt Phil’s thumb wipe some tears from his face, a small smile appearing on his cheekbone baring face. His head nodded, immediately crashing into Phil’s arms. Wilbur grasped at Phil’s back. Phil hugged him back, rubbing his back.

“I’m here now, Wil. I’m here, Wilbur. I’m here to help.” Phil started to cry now, a gentle smile on his face. 

The two sat like that for a few moments, before Phil pulled off.

“We’ve gotta get out of here, before the room fucking caves in.” Wilbur nodded, and the two walked out. 

Wilbur walked up the hill, looking upon the newly formed crater. People had left, a few he could see on the other side, preoccupied with deciding where to go. Techno was nowhere to be found, the only remnant to be seen was a few wither skeletons cracked on the crater floor. 

Phil trailed behind him. He sighed, and looked to Wilbur. 

“Happy you didn’t explode the tnt? It would have been a lot bigger, and a lot harder to clean up.” 

Wilbur stared at the rocky floor, his only response being a faint hum. He turned to Phil, “Now what?”

Phil took a hold of his shoulder again, looking across the hole, “Getting you somewhere safe to think and relax is my top priority.”

“Is there any reason why you stopped replying to my letters?” Wilbur asked, turning to face his father. 

“I was probably on my trek here. God those poor...whatever brings me the mail these days.” Phil laughed at the end.

“Always wondered who sends the mail. It’s like it teleports.” Wilbur laughed too, happy that he was able to crack a smile after these few rough months. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of 27/02 requests are back open. i have no fucking clue how to work notes tbh


	17. Fell Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suggest some post resurrected Wilbur who has chronic pain from his wound?  
> Requested by Serendipitous_Posts

Ever since he was resurrected, Wilbur’s chest has been in so much fucking pain. His stab wound was still there, not directly bleeding, but at any slight impact to his scar would cause him to practically keel over and die for the day.

That’s why after the resurrection, he would hardly go out with Techno or Phil. The most he would do was wait for them to leave at the door, before laying back by the fireplace with his blue sheep by his side. Phil only left with Techno if it was a situation where more people would be needed. But as of recently, that happened a lot more often. 

What they were working on, Wilbur didn’t really know much. He was just happy to stay inside all day, reading a book or just having Friend by his side. But, after a few days of being stuck inside, he decided he wanted to have a little venture for himself. He knew he couldn’t go that far out, so he decided to only go onto the snow, and nowhere else. 

It was fine for a while, he had managed to make a small family of snowmen. They all stood by the stairs, as if they were guarding the family’s house. They looked cute, one snowman even had one of Techno’s classic red capes, and the other had one of Phil’s many green and white sun hats. Wilbur kept this idea, and even grabbed his beanie off his head to put on the last one. 

He laughed, thinking of what could be Techno and Phil’s reaction. Techno seemed like he would be pissed at his ‘delicate’ capes touching, while Phil would probably find it funny. 

Wilbur turned to face the front of the house, looking into the pen. Usually the zombie villagers would be in there, but today the only thing in there was frosted grass that the snow barely covered due to the wooden roof and a small snow fox. He opened the gates and went inside, Friend by his side. 

The grey skinned man carefully approached it, trying not to startle it. His hands were held out as Wilbur stood in front of the fox, as he wanted to befriend the small animal. He looked around, trying to find any sign of its parents. Nothing was there, so Wilbur presumed the thing was probably orphaned. 

As he crouched, the fox came jumping into his arms, toppling him back. Any normal person would probably be able to handle it, but Wilbur wasn’t that normal these days. Only a few weeks back, he was a translucent ghost with very little memories. He was going to be weak compared to many things; and surprisingly that included a fucking infant fox. 

Wilbur fell onto the muddy floor, his back in instant pain. He groaned as the fox scrambled on his chest, running over the wound. Friend immediately rushed out of the small pen. 

“God damnit.” Wilbur sighed, realising he had to somehow get up and back inside without hurting himself or the snow fox. He put his arms on the floor and pulled back, his back hurting more as he slowly sat up. The fox seemed to get the hint, as it scurried off and ran out of the gate he left open. 

Wilbur grabbed the nearest bit of fence he could and carefully dragged himself closer to it, being able to use it as support as he stood up. He held the wooden fences as he made his way out, and once he was no longer able to hold onto the fence, he walked against the wall before finally making it to the spruce stairs.

Too tired to walk up, Wilbur decided against walking up the frost covered stairs in favour of sitting down and leaning against the front wall of the house. He slumped down, his back staying against the wall as he did so. As he sat, he held his head in his hands as he called out for Friend. 

It took two minutes for Wilbur to give up, knowing that Friend would probably come back at some point before sundown. That wouldn’t happen for another few hours. Wilbur sighed in defeat, and looked around him. He could see a few of the trees rustling as whatever animal travelled through them. The small pond was starting to snow over. Shit. It was going to start snowing again. 

And Wilbur was in way too much pain to get himself up. His stomach was on fire, a burning sensation sitting in his chest as it throbbed. He tried to calm his breathing, trying his best to not go into a panic. At least it worked for the majority of the time he was outside, and it distracted him from practically keeling over and dying. 

Looking up for a moment, he could see a tuft of blue fur just coming over the snow-covered hill. He called out for the sheep, Friend making their way over. 

The moment Friend was at his side, Wilbur let his face envelope in the comfortable blue wool. He sighed again, this time in relief. The two stayed like that for a minute, before a familiar voice spoke to him. 

“You alright? Friend came running at us all the way in L’Manberg. They wouldn’t fucking stop making noise until we followed.” The voice asked. Wilbur looked up from Friend’s coat, seeing Techno and Phil.

“Um...not really. I fell over, and I am in so much pain right now.” Wilbur said, embarrassed that it was only a baby fox that knocked him over; but they didn’t have to know the size of the fox, right? No. He’ll be fine without telling them. 

Techno picked up the sheep from its place next to Wilbur as Phil helped him up. Wilbur’s hands held onto Phil’s arms as he pulled himself up. The second he stood up though, his chest got even worse. He held both sides of his stomach, causing him to nearly fall before Phil wrapped an arm around his shoulder as support. 

“Wilbur you motherfucker. Why is one of my red gowns on a snowman?” Techno said, carrying the sheep still as he walked behind Wilbur and Phil who were making their way up the steps. 

Phil helped Wilbur sit down as he answered, “I got bored. Plus, they look good now. Before they were just plain snowmen.” 

“My cape is all wet, all for some snowmen? Are you kidding me, Soot?” Techno let the sheep on the floor, watching it as it crawled its way into Wilbur’s lap. 

Phil laughed, handing Wilbur two painkillers and a small glass of fresh water. Wilbur downed the pills, swallowing the rest of the water before speaking. “You can’t be that mad, you have like five of those things. I had to use Phil’s only spare hat.” 

“You what?” Phil asked, sitting down and taking off his snow covered boots. Techno did the same, but decided to stand against the wall by the cottage’s windows. Wilbur laughed, his chest not hurting as much due to the painkillers. 

“Calm down. I had to use my beanie.” He said through small chuckles. 

“You’re washing them all then.” Phil smiled, leaning back in his chair.

“Fine with me, old man.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his head, his blue sheep still firmly in his lap.

“Wilbur I swear to god-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psa: school is starting soon, so chapters might take a little longer. and, requests are now closed :)


	18. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by I am too lazy to log in  
> Could you possibly do one similar, but this time Wilbur gets snatched, only for Phil to find out that Wilbur freed himself? I know Wilbur chooses words over action, but I am 90% sure he can kick ass if he absolutely needs to. Plus I think it would be hilarious for Phil to show up only to see Wilbur with a few cuts from beating up people (I can see him using a pole as a weapon and ringing peoples heads like a bell)  
> PSA: kinda a sequel to weird fucking figure, up to you to read it before this tho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Violence

Wilbur could handle himself decently. He wasn’t super strong like his brother Techno, or super strategic like his father Phil, but he knew how to protect himself when needed and could pack a decent punch when he needed to.

So when Wilbur found himself being threatened with a small dagger at night, he was able to escape pretty decently. A few cuts and bruises here and there, but apart from that he was okay. 

Ever since that night when he got followed, Phil would practically shove a weapon and anything he could defend himself with into his hands. And as of recent, Techno had even been helping him use a fucking pocket staff. It was one of those small extendable ones, where you would press a button and it would extend into an actual pole.  Wilbur managed to learn a few tricks with it, like how to swing it around, and actually be able to press the button without getting hurt instantly. Techno had shown him how to semi-successfully escape a dangerous situation with it. 

He still kept on his walks though, just this time with an extra bit of knowledge in case he did get into another shitty situation where he had to defend himself and a small handheld metal staff. The pocket staff was held in his jacket pocket, his hand securely wrapped around it. His fingers would wrap around the bottom so as to not press the staff’s button. 

It was dark out, as usual, with the only thing being lit was the lanterns and the moon in the night sky. Wilbur was on his normal path this time, with a higher chance of people being about on the street. At a glance, it seemed safer, but it ended up being less so.

Wilbur had wandered off, still on track, but edging towards the end of the village than on his way back. The end of the village was always more sketchy. Phil had warned him about the danger of going to the outskirts alone, more so since that night. 

He heard multiple footsteps, most likely made by a group of people as they were all out of sync. Wilbur just kept on walking however, standing by the wells as the people behind him spoke.

“Pockets; empty ‘em now. C’mon lanky legs, we haven’t got all night.” One of them said. The ‘group’ only consisted of two people, both of which were unsurprisingly shorter than Wilbur.

Wilbur moved against the wall of the well, leaning against the brick stone and wooden roof, “Haven’t got nothing on me, sorry lads. Do you mind if I just move past you there, since I haven’t got-”

Before he could continue, one of the men pulled out what seemed to be a small dagger from his side pocket and demanded again, “Empty them. Or else.”

Okay, when Wilbur says he felt smug, he really did feel fucking smug. He nodded, pulling out the pocket staff and instantly clicking the button, just barely missing his own face. The men were confused to say the least, but one of them still grabbed hold of the middle of the staff and tried his best to pull it off Wilbur. 

To their surprise again, Wilbur swung the pole in a circular motion, the black donned man’s arm pulling off as he brought his other arm to rub at where it was hurt.

Big mistake. 

Wilbur knocked the poll into both of their sides, swinging between them like he was playing god damn pingpong. Both immediately fell to the grass and gravel ground. Wilbur went to turn around before one of them grabbed a hold of his ankle and pulled him down with them. The two stood up, one grabbing a hold of Wilbur’s head as the other stood next to him, smiling down. 

Wilbur’s hand scrambled for his pocket staff, just only managing to grab a hold. Once again, the staff was brought between the two, this time being hit against the backs of their knees. The musician pulled himself up, and instantly ran the other way after making sure the two men were unfit to chase after him. 

By that, Wilbur means he smashed their faces in with the end of the staff until he could see visible damage, pretty purple bruises already forming. 

He ran to the edge of the path, staff still unlocked, and sat down under one of the lanterns on a wooden bench. Wilbur pulled the staff in, closing it into its usual resting position. Then, he took a few minutes to breathe, letting himself relax. He only got up when he heard a familiar voice call for him, sounding as it had come from around the corner, behind the village houses. 

“Wilbur? You there?” 

Wilbur got up and put the staff’s handle into his pocket, walking to the corner of the gravel pavements as that’s where he presumed the voice was coming from. 

Phil was walking along the paths, only stopping walking when he had seen Wilbur come into his line of sight. He had decided to go out and look for Wilbur, as he was taking more longer than usual and Phil grew concerned. His son trudged his way over, starting to slump a bit due to the adrenaline in his body calming down and making Wilbur feel more tired. 

“Jesus fucking christ Wil, are you alright mate? Did something happen?” Phil asked with heavy amounts of concern as he held Wilbur up with his arm around his son’s shoulder. The father and son turned around and made their way back to the family cottage that sat on the edge of the village, staying on the gravel paths. 

“Never thought that a fucking staff would come in handy, tell you that much.” Wilbur spoke softly, his voice becoming the slightest bit slurred as he got more exhausted.

“Okay, well you can fully tell us when you wake up. For now, let’s just get you home and in bed.” Phil’s voice sounded nice to sleepy Wilbur. It felt calm. He just hummed as a response, smiling as he did so.


	19. Sky Flyin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damn two updates in two days look at this shit 
> 
> Requested by A random anon  
> Maybe Wilbur is struggling with his wings so Dadza helps him out? (Preening or flying works since I can imagine Wilbur’s wings being only maybe a foot shorter than phil’s)

Compared to Phil, Wilbur’s wings were absolutely tiny. Phil’s wings were magnificent, flying wide and gracefully in the blue skies whereas Wilbur’s wings were like a small baby bird and could barely lift him up off the ground. Sure his wings still had the same black colourings as his father, but Phil’s just looked more beautiful. One of Wilbur’s earliest memories was when Phil would scoop him up and wrap his wings around the pair, making a little cocoon. Wilbur’s wings could just barely reach the end of his arms. 

Wilbur always loved how Phil would fly. He would watch his father soar high, while he would stay on the ground and dream of doing the same one day. His own wings were never able to, but that doesn’t mean he still can’t hold out hope.  Even into his early adulthood, he still couldn’t fly. His wings never had the same growth as his fathers. Phil would still fly, while Wilbur was usually stuck on the ground. Sure, Phil had stopped flying as much as he used to, but that doesn’t mean the fact that he could fly had vanished. 

After a while, Phil noticed how Wilbur would stare at him as he would prepare for flight. How he would expand his wings and lift himself into the air. It wasn’t a stare of jealousy, but rather one of awe and admiration. He recognised the look in Wilbur’s eyes, after all the man was his son that he had raised with his own two hands; he was able to know how Wilbur truly felt without actually having to talk to him. 

One beautiful summer day, the two were sitting in the fields of flowers that were by the Greater SMP and its walls. Wilbur had been wanting to show his father the fields for a while now, and it was the first time in a while that he had the time to. Ever since his resurrection, he was either bed bound or just straight up sleeping. So it was nice that the two could finally have a nice day out without worrying if Wilbur would be in any form of pain or a situation would arise. 

Wilbur was laying on the grassy grounds, his body resting in the white daisies. Phil was sitting next to him in a relaxed position, leaning against his arms. He turned, seeing Wilbur who was looking up at the sky with a small smile on his face. 

“What are you looking at up there?” Phil asked, looking up now too. 

“Just thinking. S’pretty up in the skies.” Wilbur replied, his eyes still staring at the clouds.

“Alright then, what are you actually thinking about?” Phil questioned him again as he removed the green and white hat from his head and placed it on Wilbur’s face with a laugh. Wilbur’s hands didn’t go up to entirely remove the hat, rather placing it on his actual head so he can still see the sky. 

“Just...thinking. Wonder what it’s like to actually be in the skies sometimes. Is it nice having the wind up there?” Wilbur was now looking at his father with a side glance, a gentle smile still on his face as always. 

“Do you just want me to help you fly?” Phil grew a smirk on his face, already knowing his son’s answer. 

“Fuck yeah.” Wilbur looked at him fully now, his brown eyes staring up at Phil. 

“Come here then.” Phil said as he pulled himself up, Wilbur doing the same. The father readjusted his classic hat which was now on Wilbur’s head, so that Wilbur’s easily recognisable tuft of brown curls could be seen.

His black wings let themselves out from their natural heart-shaped position, now wide open. Phil flew up a little bit, Wilbur watching his every move with the same doe eyes as usual. 

He went behind Wilbur, grabbing him up by his shoulders and pulled him up into the sky carefully. A quiet gasp could be heard from the younger’s mouth as his father pulled him up. The two didn’t go that far up, only just above the oak trees. Phil was able to readjust the two so that Wilbur was in a more comfortable position on Phil’s back in between his wings. 

Phil flew around the flower fields with a slow and steady pace, letting Wilbur look around. Wilbur’s jaw was practically all the way on the ground as he gawked at the new world around him. His own wings letting themselves be free and flap in the soft summer breeze. He still held onto Phil’s hat on his head, not wanting to drop it.

“Nice up here, isn’t it?” 

“This is fucking awesome! Look! There’s Ranboo! He looks like an ant for once!” Wilbur laughed when seeing how small his otherwise tall friend was from up in the air, one hand letting go off the hat to point at Ranboo.

“He does, everyone does up here. You should see how small the animals are, Wil. It’s like they don’t even exist.” Phil chuckled, loving his son’s reaction. God does he wish he had done this when Wilbur was smaller, it would be a lot more easier on his back. But, if it was making Wilbur happy, he could deal with a sore back for a few hours. As long as it made his son happy, he didn’t care. 

Phil slowly made his way down, not wanting Wilbur to fall off, he told the man to hold onto his shoulders. Once Phil had determined that Wilbur got a secure enough hold, Phil swept down and made his way back to the flower field. He landed completely before letting Wilbur down and sitting back on the ground, grabbing his hat off Wilbur as he did so. Wilbur made a small noise of protest, but sat down with Phil anyways.

“Phil, that was so fucking- I honestly can’t even think of a word to describe it!” Wilbur fell back onto the ground, letting his hands nestle in the piles of tiny and large daisies. 

“Cool, huh?” Phil laughed, his heart fucking bursting to know that Wilbur loved the short ride. It had been a while since the two had fun like this, like father and son. 

Wilbur nodded, his hair a mess from being in the air so long. He leant up and wrapped Phil in a hold for a hug. He let his head nestle against Phil’s back for a moment as Phil rubbed Wilbur’s in circular motions. This was nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good god someone draw this i beg, and if you for some reason do please tag me in the replies or smn on twt turtlegremlin


	20. Oh Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by mmmm. sa d   
> just depressed wilbur where phil comes to see him and helps him out?

It had been a rough year, if Wilbur was going to be completely honest. Everyone was locked inside, only just barely being let out, and he couldn’t see anyone. He felt like absolute shit.

His sleep schedule was completely and utterly fucked, he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows, only eating the odd bowls of cereal or toast, and he was behind on his actual job. He hadn’t streamed in weeks. He’s just lucky his fanbase don’t mind it.

Because they’re so used to it. Because Wilbur can’t do anything right in his goddamn life. 

Sometimes he would talk to his friends, despite how little he had slept or no matter how much he really didn’t want to be there. Wilbur would trudge through the recordings he had to do with others, barely making it out before passing out on his lighted keyboard. His face would be imprinted with the keys when he woke up sometimes, showing how much he slept. He’s just lucky that he hadn’t drooled over it yet. 

His time to sleep never lasted long though, usually only an hour or so before he eventually woke up, usually because he had left his headphones on and someone would be calling him. Most of the time it would be Tommy, asking him for help with something if the teen wasn’t able to reach Phil.

That’s all he was. He was only a backup, only to be used if the actually helpful people were busy. It was like no one would notice if he did just decide to stop this whole gig he had going on. He never streamed anyways. People wouldn’t care. 

As always, he was woken up from his ‘nap’, Wilbur was never too sure what to call them, with the sound of the discord ringtone blaring through his headphones and right into his ears. He shook awake, sitting himself in his chair properly. Or at least, as properly as he could manage at the moment. Clicking the answer button, a voice came through. But, Wilbur was way too tired to register what they were even saying. His name was called a few times before he answered.

“Wil? You there mate?” They spoke, having to wait a few seconds before Wilbur replied.

“Oh...yeah. I’m here. What-um-what do you need?” He replied, fumbling over his words due to being in a tired state. 

“You alright? You haven’t got offline in god knows how long, Wil.” They questioned him, Wilbur only just recognising the voice.

“Oh! Phil! Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just been,” Wilbur had to think for a moment, not wanting Phil to be concerned at the fact that he hadn’t even been sleeping or even anything that required him to get up from his computer’s desk. However, Phil got tired of waiting, already having a good guess of what’s been happening. That man practically knew Wilbur like the back of his hand, knowing if something was wrong literally instantly. 

“Not sleeping?” Phil asked, wanting to confirm his growing suspicions. Wilbur hummed in response, his mind and body fuzzy from the lack of nutrients he had been getting. The only things he had been eating and drinking were a glass of water and whatever left of his pistachio nuts that was in the box under his desk. That was only if he felt like he actually needed to eat though.

“Do you think you can tell me the last time you even slept in your own bed? It’s okay if you can’t, I just need to know.” Phil’s voice was gentle and caring, making Wilbur even more inclined to answer. He only felt more disappointed in himself when he couldn’t. He always fucks up. He’s a shit person. 

“I don’t know. God, I’m so sorry that I don’t know just please forgive me. I’m too tired for this.” Wilbur felt his heart sink, not being able to answer the one person who was probably the most inclined to help him. He was going to leave and be mad at Wilbur, and good lord he’s never going to want to talk to Wilbur again-

“I’m not mad, Wi, you don’t need to apologize for anything. I am the farthest thing from being mad at you. I just want to know how you are; I care about you mate.” Wilbur could hear shuffling in the background, and what sounded like something slamming. He flinched at the loud sound, his mind instantly racing as to what Phil was doing.

“Phil?” Wilbur was confused, not knowing what Phil was doing. Phil only hummed in response, his short reply only just being heard over what sounded to be wind. Was he outside?

“Why is there so much noise? Are you going somewhere?” Wilbur leant back in his chair, already feeling tired again. He took a small and slow sip of water from his flask.

“Going somewhere, yes. I’m on my way to you right now. You sound like you need a break, Wilbur.” Phil closed his window, trying his best to keep any other noises from not coming through on his end.

Well, Wilbur felt like he was going to cry. He had messed up Phil’s day because he wasn’t keeping track of things and now Phil has to cancel a stream because of him and holy shit. A few sniffles made their way out of his nose without Wilbur even realising it. Phil was quick to shut him down though.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t start crying, Wil. Nothing bad has happened, and nothing bad is gonna happen. I promise.” Phil reassured the now crying man. He kept on shushing him while he drove, the phone on speaker in the cup holder. Phil was nearing Wilbur’s shared apartment, only a few turns away. Wilbur’s soft cries soon turned dissolved back into sniffles after a few minutes.

“I’m outside, I’m going to end the call and come up alright. Is anyone else there or is it just you?” Phil stepped out onto the pavement with the spare key Wilbur had given him in his hand, and locked the car.

“Just me. Ev’ones out.” Wilbur mumbled. Phil said a quick bye before ending the call and opening the door. He kicked off his shoes and made his way up the stairs to Wilbur’s bedroom.

Wilbur was still sitting in his desk chair, turning off his computer for the first time in what felt like years. Phil walked over and rubbed Wilbur’s curly brown hair, causing Wilbur to instantly swivel around in his chair and face his father figure.

“Oh Wil. Come on, mate. Let’s get you up and into bed, yeah?” Phil crouched a bit as he pulled back Wilbur’s hair, letting Wilbur look at him as a gentle smile formed on his face. Wilbur nodded, going to stand up only to realise his legs were jelly from sitting on the chair for way too fucking long. He went to fall, only to be held up by Phil, who kindly let Wilbur lean on him as they made their way to Wilbur’s bed. Phil still held onto him as he pulled back the grey duvets, only letting go of Wilbur when he got in. He debated on whether or not he should stay in the room, do some cleaning and what not. Yes, was Phil’s answer. He moved next to Wilbur, sitting on the somewhat comfortable bean bag that was by his bed, pulling out his phone after shooting a smile to Wilbur.

Wilbur stared at Phil as the older sat on the orange bean bag by his bed. If no one cared, at least he knew Phil cared. That was one of his last thoughts before eventually passing out on the pillow with his mouth wide open, drool fooling onto his pillow as he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is officially back, so expect me to update like once a week or some shit


End file.
